The Pledge of Persistence
by Artemis and Shadow-kins
Summary: The group have finally reached their sixth year of Hogwarts, and are reaching breaking point. In this fierce fight for total unity in the Wizarding world, can everybody come out unscathed? (tw: pretty much everything you can think of)
1. Chapter 1

**Okey-dokey, this is Emily here in the bold, but this chapter is actually Katy's. From here on, all the odd numbered chapters are Katy's (1, 3, 5, etc.) and the evens are mine (Emily's)(2, 4, 6, etc.) unless it says otherwise at the top.**

**This is a disclaimer for the entire story: we do not own any of the Harry Potter characters, and neither do we own any Les Misèrables characters (/cries into cereal) **

**so yeah that's the formalishy bit there you go je suis Emily et i'm just adding this A/N so that you get to know us a bit so yeah: us a bit**

**geddit**

**fine no one laughs at my jokes anyway - read on mes amis and let us know what you think!**

Enjolras walked steadily through the rattling train, his head held high. After all, he was a prefect.

A Gryffindor prefect nonetheless.

Enjolras enjoyed school immensely - he always had. Ever since he'd been little and his parents had told him about Hogwarts, he'd wanted to go. To see the wonder, to meet new people, and, most of all, to learn magic.

Enjolras drunk up any information offered to him, determined to be the best wizard possible, determined to make the world a better place, both for muggles and wizards. That was one of his main passions; to make everyone equal, in particular to stop discrimination against muggleborns. That was always something that angered him; how could anyone be better than someone else due to blood status? Two of his best friends, Joly and Jehan, were muggleborn and they were both very loyal and talented wizards. Enjolras knew of some "pureblood" wizards, who weren't any use to anyone, but thought that there blood status brought them to the top of the social ladder.

It was ridiculous, totally ridiculous, and Enjolras was going to do everything he could to change that. After all that was the whole point of the group he led, friends of the ABC. That was the aim that they were set on; that was the aim that they would achieve!

Enjolras was rudely snapped out of his thoughts by a rowdy bunch of first years, charging down the train towards him. Frowning, he stepped back, allowing them to pass, before stopping the boy at the back.

"What do you think you're doing?" He snapped at the first year, who was much shorter than he was, with wild dirty blonde hair and grey eyes, yet he seemed to have that air of importance about him, clearly telling the Gryffindor prefect that this boy would be a troublemaker. However he didn't seem mean or spiteful in any way, merely mischievous... But even so, that was no excuse.

"Don't you know that it's dangerous to run around like that?" Enjolras could see that the boy wasn't listening to him, making him feel even more annoyed, when he had been a first year he'd been quiet and rule abiding, not annoying, loud, and cocky.

"Don't roll your eyes at me, I am a prefect you know!" Enjolras snapped, gaining the attention of the scruffy haired first year.

"Sorry, sir," the boy said in a sing song voice, his voice had a strong London accent, "Was jus' excited 'bout sortin' n' that, you know,"

Enjolras' frown softened slightly, at the first years honesty, "What's your name?"

"Thenardiers the name, Gavroche Thenardiers," the boy said proudly.

"Well, Gavroche," Enjolras muttered, unsure what to make of the boy "Which house do you want to get sorted into?"

"Gryffindor o'course! The house for the brave!" Gavroche exclaimed looking up at the houses prefect with a new respect "definitely not Slytherin, bunch o' judging Purebloods"

Enjolras opened his mouth about to tell Gavroche not to think that of other houses, though inwardly he agreed, when one of the other first years called Gavroche's name, and, to Enjolras' astonishment he began walking towards his friend.

Had he no respect at all?

Enjolras was in half a mind to call Gavroche back and scold him for walking away when he had been talking to him, when he heard a familiar voice behind him.

"Don't take your duties too seriously Enjolras; you'll give yourself a heart attack,"

Enjolras turned to see Combeferre, the boy whom he'd know the longest and considered to be his best friend.

Ignoring his comment with a half smile Enjolras said "Good to see you, Combeferre, did you have a good summer?"

"Pretty good," his friend replied, as the pair began making their way towards the front of the train, looking for a free compartment. Both Enjolras and Combeferre were prefects, though from different houses, and should therefore be in the prefects compartment. But they had technically been patrolling the train for trouble, and no on would mind if they got their own compartment.

The Ravenclaw prefect continued "What about you Enjolras, how was your summer?"

"Very good, actually. I did a lot of work for the ABC and it's really coming along well!" The blond replied proudly. Before adding "Where are the others?"

"I haven't seen Joly yet," Combeferre answered with a shrug "Jehan and Courfeyrac said they'd find us in a minute - I think Courfeyrac has found another girl to chase." He couldn't help but smile at his friends antics.

"And where's Marius?"

"Where'd you think?" Combeferre replied, half smiling once more "He's sitting with that girl of his."

Enjolras let out a frustrated sigh.

"Don't sound too enthusiastic," His friend teased sarcastically.

"I don't dislike Cosette, she's nice, it's just..." The blond boy struggled for words, as the pair finally located an empty compartment.

"It's just?"

"It's just that since that, he doesn't seem interested in the course anymore!"

And it was true, Enjolras thought darkly. Because Marius and Cosette were both in Hufflepuff, they had begun the annoying habit of missing most meetings of the friends of the ABC, and when they did come to the meetings they just sat in their little huddle, talking about how much they loved each other! There couldn't be a more distracting thing when trying to gain equality among magical creatures. Enjolras didn't understand why people went on and on about how perfect love is, as, if he was honest to himself, nothing about love interested him. Even Courfeyrac going on and on about how great sex is didn't really make Enjolras any keener on embarking into a relationship. He was simply just too busy, and had more important things to spend time on.

By then, the two had settled into the compartment, their trunks stored safely above them. Enjolras was looking dreamily out of the window, Combeferre had his nose in an Arithmancy book.

When Courfeyrac finally showed up it was just past noon.

He dragged his trunk behind him, looking grouchy as he hauled the case onto the rack above his head, before slumping into the seat next to Combeferre, who barely looked up from his book.

"I hate the start of a year!" Courfeyrac sighed, looking depressed at the the very thought of going back to Hogwarts; back to teachers, and lessons and work - it was enough to depress anyone!

"Where's Jehan, I thought he was with you?" Enjolras asked turning to face the dark haired Hufflepuff, who was now picking at a pumpkin pasty he'd pulled from his pocket.

"I dunno, he was talking to some Slytherin guy he said he knew,"

"And you decided to ditch him?" Combeferre asked in an off hand tone.

"Oh lay off - he'll be here in a minute," Courfeyrac groaned sinking, if possible further into his seat. As if on cue Jehan pulled back the compartment door and settled himself onto the seat opposite Courfeyrac, looking a little put out.

"Did you really have to leave, Courf, I wasn't taking too long" The poet said in slight annoyance, which was unusual for Jehan, as he hardly ever got angry.

"You were taking ages!" Courfeyrac argued "and that guy you were talking to, looked like he'd crawled out of the gutter!"

"Don't say that!" Jehan retorted, clutching his poetry book, never wanting to think badly of anyone.

"Who was it?" Combeferre asked kindly, looking up from his book, and taking off his glasses. Combeferre always knew how to carry on a conversation, while keeping everyone happy.

"It was Grantaire," Jehan answered enthusiastically.

"Who?" Enjolras asked, not recognising the name.

"Grantaire Labelle, I sat next to him in Charms last year! Oh that reminds me!" The small sandy blond boy exclaimed, jumping out of his seat slightly "How much reading did you do about each subject over the summer, because-"

"Oh Christ, you're actually excited aren't you?" Courfeyrac sighed, looking as though he was dreading the coming year even more.

"Of course!" Jehan answered excitedly "I can't wait to have Ancient Runes; I read the textbook twice over the summer! And Herbology is great! And I love Astronomy!"

"Yeah well, you're probably not human. I only took Care of Magical Creatures and Divination. S'just too much effort doing any more." The dark haired teenager whined, his head lolling sideways.

Enjolras raised his eyebrow slightly "You can say that again, Courfeyrac - you almost failed your Charms O.W.L"

Courfeyrac sat up, raising his hand to his chest in mock hurt, a smirk playing around his lips "Enjolras, I am truly hurt by your misguided assumptions, I'll have you know I'm a gifted charm caster," he sniggered "Wingardium Leviosa!"

In an instant his scrawny rat zoomed out of his pocket and began bobbing up and down in the compartment ceiling "See," The dark haired boy said happily "Aren't I talented?"

"Immensely," The blond replied dryly, while Combeferre grinned slightly, still engrossed in his Arithmancy book, as his friends rat sank slowly lower.

"Well Courf is good at Divination and Care of Magical Creatures!" Jehan said, sticking up for his best friend, who simply scoffed, replying "Well, even the mighty Enjolras admits that Divination is crap!"

"It isn't!" Enjolras protested, feeling annoyed at his friends disbelieving faces (Even Combeferre looked sceptical) "I think that it's interesting, and useful, and…"

"Shit?" Coufeyrac finished his sentence for him. Unable to deny his friend accusations, Enjolras quickly changed the subject "Well, Care of Magical Creatures is good,"

Earning him a smile from Jehan, whose second favourite subject, after Herbology, was Care of Magical Creatures.

"Yeah, but I swear everyone does Care of Magical Creatures," Courfeyrac whined, starring at the landscape out of the window, which was slowly growing wilder, the neat fields and houses morphing into muddy brown moors and jagged rocks.

"Joly doesn't," Jehan piped up, far more enthusiastically than even Enjolras would consider being normal.

"Yeah, but only because he's terrified of catching dragon pox," Coufrfeyrac muttered prodding his wand at his rat, that now appeared to be hibernating on the seat next to him.

Just then Joly, stumbled in, several heavy books in his arms, looking flustered.

"You okay, Joly?" Courfeyrac asked in an offhand tone, barely turning to look at Joly, as he continued attempting to shove his rat into his pocket.

"Em, yes, I just, er..."

"What is it?" Enjolras asked looking directly at his friend.

"I just ran into, erm, James Potter..." Joly trailed off into silence as he settled himself next to Courfeyrac, who smiled at him sympathetically, as Jehan struck up a conversation.

"Don't," Combeferre muttered, just loud enough for Enjolras to hear, as the blond had been glaring slightly at the mention of James' name.

"How can I when he goes discriminating against other wizards for no reason what so ever!" Enjolras whispered passionately, but still quiet enough so that only Combeferre would hear.

Combeferre didn't reply. He didn't need to.

Enjolras sat back without saying anything, but he was glaring determinately out of the window, which now showed dark rugged landscape, tucked between the folds of huge valleys and hills.

That damn James Potter! Enjolras thought bitterly. He was probably the only person in Hogwarts that he truly disliked, to put it mildly. Enjolras had always found James to be arrogant, childish, and stupid. He resented, firstly, having to be a year younger than James, but, more importantly that he had to be in the same house as him, and on top of that he actually had to share a common room with James! That was one of the reasons why all of Enjolras' friends weren't in Gryffindor, it seemed all the other Gryffindor boys in their sixth and seventh year wanted to idolise James, though he had never actually done anything that was the slightest bit useful to anyone! All Potter ever did was go on about how great his father was, that his family was amazing and all that rubbish, not to mention the fact that he judged people on their blood status, rather harshly, one of the things that his father had, in fact, fought so hard against. Not that he seemed to care...

And his brother was just the same! Well, he probably was, Enjolras had never really spoken to Albus, or heard him call anyone a mudblood. But Enjolras could quite easily imagine Albus being the same immature little boy that his older brother was. The Potters are all the bloody same, he thought, darkly.

The remainder of the train ride passed relatively quietly; Courfeyrac, Jehan, and Joly chatting happily, with Combeferre occasionally joining in. Marius and Cosette even came in for a while before going back to their compartment. And when the Hogwarts express finally pulled into Hogsmeade's tiny station, even Enjolras seemed to be in a better mood. It was, unfortunately, short lived.

As the five boys waited for an empty carriage to arrive, they strained their necks trying to catch a glimpse of Marius and Cosette, when a person slammed into them.

Jehan got the worst of it, and was shoved forward landing hard on the ground with a yelp of pain.

Enjolras turned to find himself facing James Potter and three of his friends, laughing and jeering at the boy on the floor.

"Watch where you're going, Prouvaire!" The messy, black haired boy teased, looking down on Jehan.

"Fuck off, James!" Courfeyrac growled harshly, Joly shrunk behind him looking slightly nervous.

"Don't you have something else to waste your time on?" Enjolras spat, standing in front of his friends.

"Says the boys who are fighting against a problem that doesn't even exist anymore!" James smirked as Courfeyrac helped Jehan to his feet.

"You're the one who calls people 'Mudbloods'," Enjolras retorted, ignoring the effect that it had on Jehan and Joly, both of whom had been referred to as mudbloods by many people, including James.

"Whatever, Enjolras," James sneered.

He cast his eyes over the other boys, stopping a second longer on Jehen, and smirking even longer at Joly, before he and his friends got into the horseless carriage, which the other boys had been waiting for, though none of them made any move to stop him; as far as they were concerned, James Potter was not worth the effort.

And without giving them so much as a backwards glance, the carriage Potter and his followers were in set off up the hill, leaving the group of boys glaring after them.

"Well," Courfeyrac said, in a reasonably bright voice, which the others instantly interpreted as sarcasm, "This year's shaping up to be a good 'un already."


	2. Chapter 2

Grantaire took a deep breath - for once not intoxicated - preparing himself for another torturous year. Whilst staying with his parents was hell, school was worse. It was just the fact that he had a few acquaintances here that made it even slightly bearable.

But, it was also almost time to see him again.

A quick tug on his arm revealed Éponine, who was only a few inches shorter, but still had to look up to meet Grantaire's eye, her eyebrows raised impatiently.

"I dunno 'bout you, Labelle," She started, her dark eyes glancing over the castle in a bored yet curious manner, "But I'm just 'bout ready for a drink."

Her confident tone and demanding nature used to annoy Grantaire, but he had since wormed his way under her skin, getting to know when she was joking and when she meant every single word, and had found that she was in fact alright. To a new friend, she appeared basic and straightforward, but was infact a delicate balance of many things, which Grantaire had, unfortunately, learned the hard way.

"Dining in or out, Madam?" He offered her his arm in a jokey manner, but to his surprise, she took it, and then started pulling him up the hill with it. Éponine was always surprising him.

"Dining in, My good sir." A posher accent slipped into her usual drawl, changing the perspective of her completely, as she straightened up, her cloak now flapping in the wind behind her slightly. Grantaire always thought that she'd go into an acting class of some sort, with all the accents and airs she could put on. However, she'd already got herself a summer internship in the Auror department for the end of the year, and there's no way in hell that anyone would turn that down.

"Sounds splendid, Madam. Any fine wines on offer for us to try?"

At that, she shook her head, in a sort of delicate manner, like you'd expect a member of the royal family to.

"I'm afraid not, good Sir. The only thing available is this little drink I like to call-"

She leant a little closer, as if whispering a secret, even though they both knew what was going to finish the sentence.

"-Vodka."

This earned a grin from both of them, but it was just that point when they reached the entrance to the castle, the light flooding out of the open doors. Normally, the students would all go up in the carriages and then get out a little way down the hill and walk up, chattering and laughing and ready for another year at Hogwarts, but Grantaire and Éponine did their best to avoid these as much as possible. Whilst they kept themselves to themselves, other people didn't always leave them alone. Namely, James Potter.

Instead, they walked from Hogsmeade to Hogwarts, which only took half an hour if they were quick, but often wasn't enough time to escape the feast altogether. Their prefects all knew of Éponine and Grantaire's constant skiving, and did their best to cover for them, but sometimes it wasn't enough.

"Didn't you want to see your brother get sorted?" Grantaire asked, as they edged closer to the door, unsure whether to walk straight in or to wait for everyone to leave and go with the crowd. "It's a pretty big thing for him, right?"

She merely shrugged, and crossed the entrance to go and lean on a pillar that wouldn't be in sight if the doors opened unexpectedly. From this angle, they'd learned, they could hear McGonagall's speech, and not be heard themselves. If they'd gotten here early enough, they might also have been a chance at listening to the sorting.

"He'll probably be Gryffindor - my parents don't really give a damn. They don't know much about the magic works - they just want us to keep it so they can use it to their advantage, like making deals here as well as in the muggle world, I guess."

"What would your Father be? Y'know, if he weren't a muggle." Grantaire asked, finally giving in and joining her by the stone pillar, careful not to let his shoes squeak on the floor, as Mrs Norris could feel almost anything under her feet like a radar.

"Slytherin. What else?"

"Dunno. Can you imagine your father being friendly with Slughorn?"

Éponine snorted, but somehow still managed to make it look graceful. Slytherins often had that air of grace about them, which Grantaire had been told was similar to a vampire's.

"Definitely. He'd have been the smarmy arsehole that brought him the bloody pineapple chunks."

Grantaire grinned, trying to imagine Mr Thénardier as a student, supposedly innocent, but probably the complete opposite. All he could imagine was a chubby little 12 year old waddling along to Slug Clubs, but that image was just fine for this purpose.

Then, interrupting their thoughts, a deep, panting breathing worked its way up from outside, as if someone was running towards the castle. No, two people.

Éponine was the first on the case, hopping off the small ledge she'd perched herself on, peering around the door, her eyebrow raised. For 4 years, they'd been uninterrupted whilst they waited for the Great Feast to finish, so why any different this year?

A loud exclamation came from the other side of the door, from which Grantaire could tell that they were students - male students. Sighing, he made his way over to where Éponine was stood, joining her in taking a long look at the arrivals.

He recognised them – but they weren't in his year. Maybe the one below?

Of course, their eyes had instantly latched onto Éponine. Whilst she wasn't what Grantaire would call 'beautiful', she was certainly striking, but still had a hint of familiarity about her face. This familiarity was something her Father adored about her, as it made her excellent for his little endeavours; she was easily trusted and most people in her home town knew her name.

"What cha doin'?" She asked the two boys, her voice seeming casual on the surface, but with an undertone of warning and condescension. "Out for a late-night stroll?"

The first of the boys spluttered, but the other one gained his composure quickly.

"Terribly sorry to have, er, burst in on you like this." His blonde hair was fluffy and sticking up in many directions, and Grantaire guessed that they'd run most of the way. "We kinda missed the carriages."

Éponine waited a second, a painfully calculating look on her face, before shuffling back to let them in.

"If you're going to go in, tell no one you've seen us."

The more confident boy manage to smother a grin at that, and motioned to his friend for them to go inside. After a few seconds pushing, the Great Hall doors opened, and they walked into a stunned silence, Grantaire and Éponine keeping care to stay out to the way. The Great Hall doors were rarely opened for a single person, and often had to be helped by magic; most would think it a suspicious occurrence, as they couldn't see Éponine tucking her wand back into her pocket.

Waiting for someone to close the doors again - it would look too suspicious for Éponine to do it both times - Grantaire checked his watch.

"Only 20 minutes to go." He muttered, stuffing his hands back in his pockets. "Jesus, can't we just go sit in the kitchens or something until they're done?"

"Nah, we'll get caught by Filch or the Bloody Baron or something."

They waited, and finally the Great Hall doors shut, although not properly, so the two outside could hear the commotion inside. It turned out that one of the Slytherin first years had knocked a plate of pudding onto a seventh year, who was getting angry, understandably. Even though it appeared he had been cleaned off, the First year was still terrified and had burst into tears.

Well, that's what Grantaire and Éponine heard in the Common Room later, anyway. At that moment they were playing little mind games, the kind small children play at parties, such as "what would you do for a million galleons?" or "would you rather?". Grantaire had just thrown out "would you rather eat a kilo of hippogriff shit or have everybody hear your thoughts for a day?" when the Great Hall doors opened again, signalling the end of the Feast.

Silently and swiftly, the two hopped back, leaning against the wall close enough that they would be thought of as together, but not close enough to be together. There had been many a incident in previous years where a relationship had been insinuated, and neither of them had remembered the experiences happily. They made conversation a little more forced and wooden for days on end, until finally they'd relax back into their friendship again. All in all, a pointless and unpleasant experience for everyone involved.

Together, they watched the bossy prefects blend into whispering First Years, breaking off into chunks of second, third, fourth years and so on. The cloaks dragged behind them, tugging on their shoulders and tickling at their sore backs, teasing crinkles out of previously pristine clothes. Grantaire had never really seen the point in the cloaks - they rarely kept anyone warm anyway.

Just as they shuffled over to join the crowd, Éponine let out an unladylike snicker.

"Look at their stupid little hats. They look ridiculous."

Rolling his eyes, Grantaire coaxed Éponine out of the Entrance Hall, tempting her with the promise of vodka to come, and lots of it. As usual, it got her moving swiftly, and within moments they were walking ten paces behind the gaggle of firsties, both completely lost in their own worlds.

This stopped, however, when Éponine got knocked over by an incoming Slytherin, who she, at first, lashed out at, but relaxed when she saw their face.

"Scorpius Malfoy, you little shit!" Just for good measure, she punched his arm so hard he winced, and trust me that takes a strong hit. "I could count that as rape."

"Ah, but you'd never confess that, my dear." He said, slinging an arm around her shoulder that she immediately shoved off, scowling.

Grantaire knew that she didn't really dislike him. She always put on this act of cold bitchiness, but she was actually one of the most caring people Grantaire knew; when she cared about someone, she cared deeply and forever. Once you became good friends with Éponine, there would always be a little piece of her heart with your name on it, even if she was supposed to despise you. It was just the way she was.

"Eff off, you creep." She sneered, her eyes narrowing to slits, hands on her hips. "Go fuck some whore and come back when you feel better."

"I would, but all the pretty ones are taken." Scorpius genuinely looked a little sad at this, but then bounced back to his former self.

Well, it wasn't his real self, Grantaire knew that much. The Scorpius he knew would send letters to his mother every week, keep his trunk so ordered it bordered on obsessive, and clean his teeth like it was a life rule. However, the Scorpius Éponine had the pleasure to know was an absolute arse; he was sexist and rude, constantly insulting everybody and getting away with it.

"You're such a pig."

The brunette could hear their bickering, but chose to ignore it. No matter what he said, they would do it anyway.

"Not as piggy as you, babe."

Honestly, Grantaire wouldn't blame her if she didn't really like him.

"Oi," Scorpius waved a hand in front of Grantaire's face, though it disappeared quickly with a yelp, "Call the bitch off."

"Éponine, stop attacking Scorpius. Scorp, stop pissing off Éponine." Sighing, Grantaire finally turned to look at them, dragging Éponine so she was stood on the other side of him, "Honestly, you two are like five year olds. I should get paid fucking babysitter wages."

Éponine simply rolled her eyes and tugged her arm out of Grantaire's grip.

"Oh give it up with the angst, Tubby." She stopped short in front of the entrance of the Slytherin common room, waiting for the stream of Firsties to go in before proceeding, shoving a few out the way if they didn't move quick enough.

However, her lazy plodding soon sped up when she realised what it meant to finally be back in the common room - vodka.

"I'll be back in a minute," Her eyes were bright with the idea of alcohol, "Go grab our seats before some cocky Seconds do."

By the time the two guys had reached the chairs and made themselves comfortable, Éponine was back, and this time with a shiny bottle of liquid in her hand.

"Here's to the Polish muggles that, apparently, invented vodka," She snapped the lid, cracking it open, "I owe them a bloody lot."


	3. Chapter 3

"Come on Jehan, we need to get up," The familiar voice of Marius Pontmercy roused Jehan from his sleep. Yawning, the young poet opened his eyes to see that Marius was already dressed, and was starting to throw his books in his bag for lessons.

The first day back at classes was nobody's favourite time, but Jehan knew that Courfeyrac, in particular, hated the first day of lessons.

"What have we got today?" Jehan mumbled, pulling the yellow bed sheets higher, wishing that he could drift gently back into sleep.

Marius thought for a second before reciting his timetable.

"Em, we've all got Divination-"

The large lump in the bed opposite, which was Courfeyrac, let out a groan,

"Then we have Charms before lunch with the Slytherins-"

Marius said the word with distaste, and even Jehan allowed himself to make a bit of a face; he had always found Slytherins a little… well, mean. They just seemed too aggressive and foul-mouthed. But the Charms Professor was one of Jehan's favourites, so he supposed that it wouldn't be too bad.

Marius' voice pulled Jehan out of his thoughts "And then after lunch you have Ancient Eunes, while I have Muggle Studies, and Courf has nothing."

The lump in the bed let out a small cheer.

"Oh, but Enjolras wants to have the first meeting tonight," Marius sighed, as Jehan began to pull oh his shirt and tie. A sound not dissimilar to a dying frog rose from Courf's bed.

Grinning slightly, Jehan pulled his bad towards him, and stated to neatly place his books within it, not forgetting the small notebook he carried with him at all times to scribble ideas for poems.

"Personally, I like going to the meetings. They're kind of inspiring, you know?" The poet said absently as he carefully started to braid his hair.

"But, first day... Lessons, homework, ugh!" Courfeyrac groaned, finally emerging from beneath the sheets. Jehan was unable to stifle a laugh at his friends ridiculous hair, which was now sticking up at all angles. Courfeyrac raised an eyebrow playfully.

"Oh come on, how can you resist this much sexy?"

Heat rushed to Jehan's face, and he forced himself to double check his books again to hide it. This didn't go unnoticed by Courfeyrac.

"Come on Courf! We're gonna be late!" Marius whined as his curly haired companion slowly started to get dressed. Luckily for the other two Hufflepuffs, Jehan had had the foresight to prepare Courfeyrac's bag the night before, meaning when he finally finished getting dressed they could get it of the common room fairly quickly.

Courfeyrac didn't even seem to have the energy to flirt with the girls in their house as they watched him exit the common room. Although Jehan would never tell anyone, he really disliked listening to Courfeyrac flirting with girls. But he wasn't jealous! He just... Liked having as much of Courfeyrac's precious attention as possible.

The three Hufflepuffs walked past the kitchens, and further along the corridor full of portraits until they reached the entrance hall.

Courf groaned as the bright morning light hit him.

"I'm melting!" He hissed raising his hand dramatically in front of his face.

"Courf, you're not a vampire! Please just hurry up." Marius muttered, his eyes fixed on the distant image of Cosette sat at the Hufflepuff table. Sighing slightly, that his joke hadn't received the reaction he'd hoped for, Courfeyrac followed Marius and Jehan towards the grand oak doors which led into the great hall, past a group of four Slytherins milling around the entrance to the great hall.

Though he wouldn't dare call himself an acquaintance, yet alone a friend, Jehan recognised the boys in group; the silver blond hair of Scorpius Malfoy was hard to miss, and next to him was Grantaire Labelle, the Slytherin that Jehan had sat next to last year in Charms class. The blond haired boy tried to smile at Grantaire, but the boy was staring intently into the hall with tired looking eyes - Jehan wouldn't rule out the possibility that the Slytherin boy already drunk at ten to nine in the morning.

And Bahorel, the burly Slytherin seventh year who stood with them, was basically a Hogwarts legend; it seemed that no one had ever gotten as many detentions as Bahorel. Courfeyrac had always said that Bahorel was the main reason Slytherin had never won the house cup in all the time they'd been at Hogwarts.

The girl, on the other hand, was recognisable, definitely from his year, although Jehan was unable to recall her name. But as they passed, the poet saw her eyeing the group, looking almost shy... Perhaps she was one of the many girls in love with Courfeyrac.

Breakfast passed relatively uneventfully; Enjolras, Joly and Combeferre said a brief hello, but the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws had Transfiguration first, and they wanted to be early in order to get some work done.

So the three Hufflepuff boys, along with Cosette, walked to their divination class together.

The class had continued as it had always done: the entire class was bored senseless. At one point Courfeyrac had actually fallen asleep, only to be jerked awake by Jehan when he was asked to make a prediction by the Professor.

Courf had then deduced that, due to the unusual movements of Jupiter, Jehan would be attacked by a Blast-Ended Skrewt, and then proceed to be killed by a Griffin. Professor Trelawney, the ancient Divination teacher - or as Courfeyrac referred to her "that old hag" - had rewarded him with 10 points to Hufflepuff. Meaning that Courfeyrac had been almost unbearable (he'd probably never gotten that many house points in one go before).

"That was worse than I remembered," Marius sighed as the three walked towards the Charms corridor along with the rest of the Hufflepuffs, a few Slytherins mixing in with them.

"Well, personally, I thought it was a great lesson!" Courfeyrac announced walking with a bit more of a swagger than usual. Jehan couldn't help but grin slightly; Courfeyrac always got so adorably pompous if he ever actually got something right in a lesson.

Be in spite of that the curly haired Hufflepuff visibly deflated as they came to a stop outside their Charms class.

After just a minute of waiting outside the dark wood door opened and Jehan's favourite Professor appeared.

Professor Golightly was very young - the youngest Professor at the school. She was a short, thin woman. Her dark hair pulled off her face in a braid, and a pair of spectacles balanced on her slightly upturned noose. Her high-pitched voice rang out like a bell.

"Please come in class, and find a seat," she gave an extra smile to Jehan; the young Hufflepuff was liked by most teachers, but Professor Golightly in particular considered him her best student. That was partly one of the reasons why she was Jehan's favourite Professor.

The class trooped half-heartedly into the class room. The Slytherins and Hufflepuffs remaining separate, as they continued chattering to other members of their house. Jehan could see that his two friends were busy with pretty Hufflepuff girls; Marius with the love of his life, and Courfeyrac with some girl whose name he probably didn't know. But that was just what Courfeyrac was like: his whole life was one more one night stand after another. Not that that should bother Jehan... Except that it did.

Either way, Jehan didn't want to awkwardly hang around his friends as they flirted, so he quickly moved away from the group of students to get his favourite desk situated right at the front of the class. That might have been considered too keen by some, but Jehan was always one to throw himself into everything he did, whether it was gaining equality for magical creatures, lessons, or his poetry; Jehan would always try his absolute hardest.

"Come on!" The Charms Professor chimed, as she saw most of the students still standing around talking "Now, I want you to sit next to someone who is in the other house." She said sternly, looking over her glasses, as the class let out a collected moan.

Jehan waited patiently, wondering who he would be partnered with, whilst he fiddled with his braid. As long as it wasn't Scorpius he didn't really mind.

"Not at the back, Mr Labelle," Professor Golightly said without even looking up from the papers on her desk "I'd like you to sit at the front again this year," she continued, gesturing vaguely at Jehans desk.

Well, Jehan thought to himself, it could be worse; at least he knew Grantaire, and the drunkard was easy to get on with, if a little cynical.

The poet turned in time to see a groggy looking Grantaire skulk out of the shadowy corner of the classroom and slump unenthusiastically down onto the chair next to him.

"Hello Grantaire," Jehan said politely "How was your summer?" He asked, not really knowing what else to say.

In reply the Slytherin boy just muttered something darkly, picking at a half healed cut on his arm.

Jehan opened his mouth, about to comment on the weather, when a voice interrupted.

"Hey R, thought I'd join you in the Eager Squad," Jehan turned around to give an indignant look at the dark haired girl he'd seen with Grantaire this morning, as she sat casually at the desk behind Jehan and Grantaire.

"Don't usually sit this far forward, 'Ponine," The Slytherin boy said slowly, his words slightly slurred.

The girl flicked a strand of dark hair out of her eyes before replying "Well it was either here or in front of Scorpius, and, quite frankly, the further I am from him, the less likely it is I'll concede an STD."

The blond Hufflepuff stared at the ground whilst Grantaire snorted, his cheeks flushed; this was not the kind of conversation he was used to.

Luckily for Jehan, the Professor spoke up before the Slytherins could continue their vulgar conversation.

"No, Courfeyrac! There's only one desk left, so please just make things simpler and sit down next to miss Thénardier," She sighed, already seeming exhausted from the rowdy students.

As it turned out, Courf had been trying to convince a Hufflepuff girl to swap places with him, as he'd have a better chance of falling asleep unnoticed at the back of the class than in the front. But, unfortunately, the Charms Professor had caught onto his plans.

Courfeyrac didn't look too happy; sitting at the front of the class had never been his sort of thing, but his eyes lit up as they saw the girl he'd be sat next to, and as he took his seat he had that painfully familiar expression in his face.

Jehan willed Courfeyrac not to... But he did.

"So you're Éponine right? That's a pretty name,"

Jehan winced at the girls cutting reply, which contained the words off, fuck, bastard and cactus. Though Courf just looked unfazed as ever, Jehan was about to make some kind of subtle hint to Courfeyrac not to attempt to flirt with Éponine, when something caught his eye.

Grantaire had taken out a small flask from his bag, the heavy sent of fire whiskey wafted towards Jehan. The poet had known that Grantaire had had a drinking problem last year when he'd sat next to him... But it hadn't been this bad! Okay sometimes he'd skip lessons, and he'd usually come into class a little more than tipsy. But never before had he actually drunk in the lesson.

What had made him suddenly get worse? Jehan wondered unable to stop himself feeling sorry for the drunkard. Had something bad happened to him during the holidays?

Someone cleared their throat behind Jehan, and he turned around to see Professor Golightly standing right behind them, about to hand out the text book.

With a sinking feeling Jehan realised that the Professor had just witnessed Grantaire's actions as well. Grantaire also seemed to pick up on this fact.

"Honestly Professor, I'm not drunk!" Grantaire slurred, raising his head, causing Jehan to wince a little; Grantaire's entire appearance contradicted his comment. As the Slytherin shifted slightly, Jehan caught a glimpse of his hands, which were shaking uncontrollably, and the Hufflepuff couldn't help gagging slightly as the scent of alcohol and muggle cigarette filled his nose. Grantaire's tightly curled hair fell in a knotted mess across his forehead. His skin was sickly pale and clammy, aside from the dark purple, bruise-like circles beneath his eyes, that were huge and bloodshot, but slightly glazed.

Professor Golightly hesitated, clearly wanting to scold the Slytherin student for appearing to the lesson on the first day of lessons already hung-over. But by the sixth year of Hogwarts Grantaire's drinking habits had become legendary, and most of the teachers had come to accept the dark haired Slytherin as somewhat of a lost cause. Either the professors would try their best to help Grantaire, by at least letting him get away with more than most, or they would pick on him in order to "motivate" him into stopping his undesirable habits.

But Professor Mary-Jane Golightly wasn't one of the latter; she was considerate, fair, and above all, sympathetic. This was one of the main reasons why she was Jehan's favourite teacher, and also why she didn't grow angry at Grantaire as most would.

A slight frown appeared on the witch's face. Pursing her lips she turned to Éponine, sat behind Grantaire "Do up your top button Miss Thenardier!" But the dark haired Slytherin girl made no attempt to sort put her uniform, she merely made a rude had gesture at the professors retreating back, before turning to face her bleary eyed friend.

"Nice one, R. Only thirty minutes into school and you've already had to lie your arse out of something."

Grantaire just sank further into his chair muttering something that sounded like fuck off, as Courfeyrac lent forward trying to gain the girls attention.

"So 'Ponine, you like Charms? Cause I do, you know. I think we're gonna work well together." the Hufflepuff purred.

"You're crap at Charms and you know it," Éponine snarled far more aggressive than needed.

Courfeyrac turned an incredulous face to look at Jehan "Where are people getting these misguided rumours about my charm-casting skills?! I'm actually pretty damn good at most things; Charms included!"

Letting out a short laugh, Éponine sneered "Yeah right Courfeyrac! You're so useless; you got fired from a blow-job!"

"...Speaking of blow-jobs"

"Bastard"

"Bitch!"

"Man-whore!"

"Excuse me!" The Professor shouted from the front of the class, looking as though she might finally be loosing her temper. "Would you all be so kind as to answer question 24 on page 601. In silence!"

**XXX**

Marius and Jehan sat at the the long Hufflepuff table the two of them had just finished their afternoon classes, and were ravenously gulping down the dinner on the table before them.

"Oi!" The pair looked up to see Courfeyrac strolling towards them looking pleased with himself; what he spent his free afternoon doing, the other didn't really want to know.

"Shove up, you two!" Courf whined, forcing a space between Marius and Jehan, and squeezing himself onto the bench.

Marius didn't even seem to notice - he was too busy smiling vaguely at Cosette as she talked to two other Hufflepuff girls further up the table, occasionally catching her eye and grinning even more.

Jehan on the other hand tensed up; Courfeyrac was sitting so close to him, that his entire left side was pressed against Jehan, his sweet warm scent was easy to detect. Every time the dark haired boy moved, his shoulder would slide against the poet's, sending tremors though his veins. As Courfeyrac shifted slightly to become more comfortable, his hip brushed Jehan's.

Blushing scarlet Jehan hurriedly announced "I, er, just need to go to the library before the meeting, I-I'll see you two there!" Before standing up from the table so fast that his books slide out of his bag and cascaded across the flagstone floor.

Sighing, Jehan knelt on the floor and began to pick up the contents of his back. Flicking his braid out of his way, Jehan realised that Courf had bent down to help him gather up him books, and now as he looked up, their faces were almost touching.

They stared at each other.

As he blinked, Jehan counted each eyelash, as they scattered the sunlight, illuminating the myriad of colours in his eyes. Each different shade of blue-grey in his eyes seemed more beautiful than the last; the colour reminded him of the open ocean. Jehan had obviously noticed them before, but he'd never prepared himself for seeing them this close; he could feel himself getting lost in the depth of those eyes…

Swallowing, Jehan looked down at his shaking hands and continued to pick up his books, refusing to let himself blush.

Jehan took the last few books from Courfeyrac and stuffed them hastily into his bag, before standing up and beginning to walk in the direction of the library, still feeling a little dazed.

Courfeyrac watched him go, a small smile tugging at his lips; he'd seen the look in his eyes when he'd stared at him.

**XXX**

"What the hell took you so long?" Courfeyrac complained, he and Marius, had had to wait long enough for Jehan to come and meet them. After which Enjolras had been late showing up.

"I'm sorry, I was busy working," Enjolras muttered distractedly, as he began to walk in the direction of the stairs.

"Wrong way," Courfeyrac called after them, causing all three of them to stop and face him.

"But the classroom we use is up the stairs," Marius said uncertainly. Enjolras nodded in agreement.

"Awww cute," Courfeyrac smirked.

"What?"

"You're all so innocent!" Courfeyrac let out a laugh "Come along children," he mocked as he led the other three sixth years further down the corridor, stopping in front of the portrait of Gregory the Smarmy.

"Courfeyrac why are we here? We need to get to the meeting," Enjolras huffed.

"Because, goodie-goodies, this happens to be my secret passage that no one else knows about. And lucky for us it goes right to the floor we want." Courf smiled at the shocked looks on his companions faces, as he drew out his wand and tapped on the painting three times.

The portrait swung open. But much to Courfeyrac's surprise a person fell out of it.

"You're secret passage that no one else knows about?" Marius repeated, smirking slightly.

Courf stared at the first year Gryffindor with dirty blonde hair who was now sprawled across the floor.

"What the hell were you doing in there?" Demanded Courfeyrac.

"Exploring," the boy replied "Why? You angry?"

Clearly he had been listening to the sixth years conversation.

"Angry... I couldn't be prouder!" It was easy to see from his face that Courfeyrac had already taken to the young rebel.

"Oh, 'ello again!" The first year said cheerfully spotting Enjolras, who replied with an emotionless "Hi,"

"What's your name?" Courf asked grinning down at the first year. Jehan always loved how easily Courfeyrac could make friends with people.

"Gavroche, what's yours?" The Gryffindor first year answered flashing the older boy a toothy grin.

"I'm Courfeyrac,"

"You were all talking 'bout a meeting. Can I come?"

"No!" Enjolras said harshly, but Courfeyrac was louder.

"Course you can," Courfeyrac replied taking no notice of the leader. "Follow me, good friend!"

As they ran up the passage together, racing and whooping in a childish manner, Enjolras muttered, mostly to himself.

"It's the beginning of the end."


	4. Chapter 4

"Oi, Tubby."

Grantaire raised his eyebrow and tilted his head slightly upwards, indicating that he was listening, but didn't want to break his line of eyesight from the book he was reading.

"Tubby," The 'y' extended into a childish whine, "Listen to me."

With the demand came a poke in the shoulder, causing Grantaire to frown and look up into the pouting face of Éponine.

"What?" Grantaire sighed, tiredly, "I'm trying to read."

"Read?" It was safe to say that Éponine's expression was surprised. "I didn't realise you read."

"Are you saying that you thought I was illiterate?" Turning back to his book, Grantaire tried to find the sentence he had been reading before, but couldn't, and felt his concentration instantly droop. "Oh fuck it, what do you want?"

"Well-" Éponine took a deep breath, and Grantaire knew instantly that he was going to like this offer. "My brother's made some friends, see. Wants us to go meet 'em."

Dread flooded Grantaire's stomach in an acidic pool of fire.

"Wh-what?" He threw his book down on the table and twisted in his armchair to look Éponine in the eye. "We have to go meet up with some arrogant firsties because they're your brother's friends?"

"Actually," She took another deep breath, avoiding Grantaire's eyes, "They aren't really firsties."

At this point, Éponine was looking anywhere she could apart from at Grantaire. That day, the House Elves had obviously been into clean, as the drab grey stone walls were free of cobwebs and stains and most of the tables had no books on them. It was an odd sight, but it gave Éponine something to look at.

Of course, this could be due to the fact that everybody else was actually in lessons, while Éponine, Grantaire and some 7th year - who was huddled in the corner muttering to himself - had a free period. God alone knows why, as it was the third day back and they had only had a double Transfiguration and Charms the day before, but neither of the sixth years questioned it. Together, they blabbed their way through their Transfiguration homework, and had now discovered that, even though free time was precious, they had no real hobbies apart from drinking. This was also an issue when the Quidditch season came into play, as there we then only certain days of the week that Éponine would allow herself to drink, causing a big upset and usually a big withdrawal breakdown usually about halfway through the year. Hence, they decided they should take up a new hobby, but had given up searching for a suitable one after the third hour of thinking.

"Oh God, don't tell me your brother's made friends with a load of Seconds?" Grantaire scrunched up his face, trying to imagine having to be introduced to a whole bunch of arrogant imbeciles who thought of themselves as "the bomb".

"Worse." Éponine sighed, making Grantaire's eyes widen. There wasn't much worse than Seconds, so what the hell could it be? "They're in our year."

She gave him a moment to let this information sink in, and was rewarded with a loud moan a few seconds later.

"Not the fucking House Unity creeps!" The sickening dread in Grantaire's stomach grew, "I- we have to go meet them?"

"'Fraid so." Éponine muttered, shuffling her feet slightly, before taking the weight off the back of the armchair Grantaire was sat in. "They have some sort of meeting tomorrow, at six. I- I guess we just turn up and see what happens."

"They'll kick our fucking arses - that's what'll happen," Grantaire grumbled, moving his legs so he was now horizontally sat in the chair, his legs dangling over the edge. "We better not take Scorp though – whilst I acknowledge that he's a pain in the arse, I have his murder pencilled in for February, so we'll have to wait."

Éponine nodded, agreeing without words that this would be an unthinkable idea. Discussing House Unity was one thing, but having a Malfoy turning up to the group would be rubbing it in their faces, and, seeing as these guys were supposedly Gavroche's new friends, they didn't quite want to do that just yet.

Grantaire breathed a heavy sigh, realising just how big of a task it was going to be to get in there and get along with them. This was going to take serious planning and perseverance.

"What time?"

"Tomorrow – six."

"Great." The brunette rubbed his eyes, tiredly. "What do they even do at those bloody meetings anyway?"

Éponine sighed, throwing herself on the armchair opposite Grantaire, arranging herself so they were in the same position.

"Guess we'll find out soon enough, huh?"

**XXX**

"Grantaire, for God's sakes, please, put the god damned bottle down for half an hour."

"Never," Grantaire half-yelled back, causing half the corridor to turn and stare at the two in confusion. They must have been an odd sight, stood outside what they believed was the Gryffindor common room entrance, but had no idea how to get inside. It was almost ten past six, and they were still hovering awkwardly, unsure as of how to proceed with getting into the meeting.

"Grantaire, please," Éponine was almost begging him, but was trying to keep the desperation of her voice, "These people might be utter arseholes, but at least try and act sober - my brother really likes these people and I don't want to fuck it up for him."

Grantaire simply stared at her, eyebrow raised. It was unlike her to care about her brother so much; she missed his goddamn sorting for Merlin's sake. However, it would take more than just a stare to break her, so she merely raised her eyebrows back, before breaking the eye contact and stopping a Gryffindor Firstie in the corridor by grabbing the back of his robes.

"Oi, midget," She pulled him towards her, turning so she could meet his eye. "What's the password?"

"I- I- H-Hippogriff-" The small boy squeaked out, "But- but there's a meeting now, you can't go in!"

But Éponine merely rolled her eyes and released him, giving him a small shove in the direction of his friends, who were all staring at this striking girl with fear in their eyes. Pathetic, Grantaire thought, Honestly, you'd think we were ogres or something.

"Hippogriff," Éponine said in a loud, clear voice, which appeared to annoy the woman in the painting.

"First, you physically assault a member of my house," Her high voice was piercing, and Grantaire had to resist the urge to cover his ears, "And then you demand entry? Who do you think I am? I'm not just going to let the enemy in withou- Ooh! Who was that? Stop- what are you doing!?"

The portrait swung open, and a tall brunette stuck his head out the opening, grinning apologetically.

"Sorry, she gets a bit fussy sometimes - hasn't quite adjusted to the times," He pushed the portrait open fully, ignoring the squawking of the lady in the portrait, and her demands for a meeting with the Headmistress.

"So, Slytherin, eh?" He remarked as he helped them through the portrait hole, which seemed a little high, even for Grantaire's standards, "Not had many of them here before."

"Actually," Grantaire grabbed Éponine's elbow and steered her carefully out of the path of a group of Seconds, "We're here because of Gavroche. Know him?"

"Short fella with the messy hair? That I do." They reached the group of people, mostly sat in armchairs and on sofas, calling out suggestions to a blonde student who appeared to be the scribe. "He's over there next to Courfeyrac - the one with the-"

"Oh, don't worry. We know Courfeyrac." Éponine said, coolly, her eyes fixed on the chatty brunette, Gavroche appearing to teaching him the rules of muggle poker.

Their companion winced, obviously expecting this.

"I was afraid you might." He awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, but gestured for them to take a seat, "How long did he string you along for, then?"

Éponine's sharp eyes swivelled back round, an element of surprise hinted in them, which she quickly masked.

"Oh no, not like that," She said, quickly, not wanting to get confused with the sort of rabble Courfeyrac usually dated, "We're just well acquainted, thank you."

"Oh," The brunette looked a little startled at Éponine's frostiness on the subject, "Er, sorry."

"Apology accepted." Éponine said, gracefully, and then turned to tune into the conversation, which appeared to be a load of nonsense on the surface. The male shot Grantaire a confused look, but he just shrugged in response; no-one could even keep up with Éponine, let alone understand her oddities.

"We could go fishing, couldn't we?" A Gryffindor girl with a cheeky smile called to the blonde, who looked like he was about to burst, "Y'know - make a day of it, invest in a boat, pack a few sandwiches-"

"Maria," The blonde managed to get out through gritted teeth, "Please, sensible suggestions only."

"We should have a demonstration on the last day of term," The voice drifted up from the floor, just out of Grantaire's view, but Grantaire recognised it as the voice of the boy he sat next to in Charms class; Jehan, who, as he remembered, always had an immaculate hair braid, "If we do it before Christmas, everyone will be in good spirits, and there'll be less chance of arguments."

"Thank you, Jehan." The blonde said, sighing with relief, "Now, if you'll just give me a minute to write that down-"

"I can do it if you like, Enjolras." Gavroche piped up, tearing his concentration away from the game of poker that he appeared to be winning. "You talk, I'll write?"

"Er, that's okay, Gavroche." Enjolras looked a little uncomfortable with the attention he was receiving from the Firstie, "I'll manage."

Shrugging, Gavroche went back to his game, revealing his cards and causing Courfeyrac to groan loudly as he threw down his cards in annoyance. It happened to be that moment that Gavroche noticed the two Slytherins, and got up to go and sit next to them, shuffling his pack of cards as he did so.

"A'ight?" He threw himself into the unoccupied armchair opposite them. "Thanks for coming."

"Well so far there ain't much to be here for." Éponine replied, her tone still cold, but it was softer than before.

Éponine and Gavroche both had cockney accents, having grown up in that part of London, but over the years Éponine had managed to develop a Standard English vocabulary and accent that masked it, which she used almost everywhere, as she said it made people take her seriously. However, whenever she was around her brother, or really angry or upset, it slipped, and a few of the abbreviated phrases slipped out before she could stop them.

"Aw, you don't mean that," Gavroche grinned at her, and Grantaire had to blink twice to register the small smile on Éponine's face.

"Shu' up, shortie."

Gavroche rolled his eyes and offered Éponine the deck of cards.

"Wanna play?"

"I'm good thanks." Éponine looked at the cards with disdain in her eye, "I've seen enough cards for a lifetime."

Just as she said that, a cry could be heard, and Éponine instantly stiffened.

"Hey, Éponine - you came!"

It was Courfeyrac, moving towards Éponine with his arms outstretched, as if going in for a hug. Whilst Grantaire and Gavroche had never spoken, they both knew what was coming next, and exchanged a dark look, knowing that this boy was done for.

Before Courfeyrac could squeeze into the space between Éponine and Grantaire on the sofa, he made the mistake of extending his hand; the suckers always did.

Éponine's arm shot out and curled her fingers around his wrist, and, before he could blink, had it pulled up behind his back, twisted so that he had to spin around simply out of reflex. Because of this, Éponine then had the power to stand up and rest her chin on his shoulder from behind, a smirk brushed onto her lips.

"Sorry, what was that?" She asked innocently, "I didn't quite hear you."

Scowling, Courfeyrac wrenched his arm out of Éponine's slacked grip, and sloped back off to the corner to sit next to Jehan, who looked positively alarmed at this display of aggression.

Still smirking, Éponine threw herself back down on the sofa, snatching Grantaire's bottle of firewhiskey and taking a swig, ignoring the disapproving looks her boys shot her.

When she finally picked up on them, she rolled her eyes.

"Jees, it's only his pride that's hurt. Not like he didn't need it or nothin'."

"That's definitely a sickle for the inappropriate jar, Thénardier." Grantaire said, reaching into his pocket for the small piggybank that they used to monitor the group's inappropriateness for the term, and Éponine reluctantly threw in a silver coin. At the end of the term, they'd count up all the money they had and splashed out on a load of Firewhiskey and muggle sweets. The last night of term was always an interesting one.

"Whatever." She took another swig of Firewhiskey, "This 'meeting' sucks anyway."

"Oi!" Gavroche looked slightly offended, "I think it's good."

"Well, what are you supposed to be doing?"

Gavroche opened his mouth to protest, but then paused and closed it again, looking around the room.

It appeared that the only person doing something productive was Jehan, who was colouring in a poster with his wand, which Courfeyrac was lazily duplicating, not even attempting to stay in the lines as carefully as Jehan was. Then there was obviously Enjolras, who was writing things down that were being called out to him, sometimes shooting back an angry retort at the ones that were more humorous than focused on Unity.

"Look," Enjolras managed to yell over the rabble, "I'm sorry we're not in the usual room, but I couldn't help the fact it was already being used. Please, just be mature about this and act appropriately. Everything will be back to normal on Wednesday!"

However, just as Enjolras asked everyone to be mature, Courfeyrac decided to charm a few posters into paper planes, which then started swooping around the room and poking people with the points.

Despite being poking rather vigorously in the side of the head by a paper plane, Éponine's eyes were fixed on a point on the far side of the room; where Marius Pontmercy was sat, talking quietly to another Hufflepuff girl, who Éponine instantly disliked. Grantaire noticed her line of sight and let out a small groan, only enough to attract her attention, since the rest of the room was in chaos over the paper planes.

Her eyes snapped to meet Grantaire's, sighing deeply when she saw what they were conveying.

"I thought you were over him?" Grantaire muttered, nudging her arm with his elbow, which she returned instantly, only a more direct and persistent jab; one that clearly said drop the topic.

"I only hope to Merlin's sweet arse that you are. Those months were seriously tedious."

Finally, after many jabs to the side, he dropping the topic.

At the start of Fourth year, Éponine had had a massive crush on this Hufflepuff boy, and the crush hadn't left her until the middle of fifth year, when she stopped doodling "Mrs Marius Pontmercy" on the inner cover of her notebooks. Some thought Éponine would never stoop so low; Grantaire, unfortunately, knew better.

Girls were really scary sometimes, Grantaire thought.


	5. Chapter 5

Marius paced up and down his dormitory, breathing heavily, trying with all his might not to do something characteristically stupid.

Just keep calm and you'll be fine.

He and Cosette had been dating for quite a long time now. It had been the best time of Marius' life, it truly had; both of them were completely in love with the other, their whole lives had been changed by their partner, neither could ever imagine for just a second what life would be like with someone else.

Anyway, they had been dating for a really long time now, neither of them had ever been with anyone else before, and so they had decided that they wanted to be each others first time. All Marius' friends had teased him about how ridiculously innocent his relationship with Cosette was, to be fair they might have been right, it was stupid when you compared it to most people in their year. But on the other hand, saving yourself for the right person wasn't necessarily a bad thing in Marius' opinion. Take Courfeyrac, he'd never actually been in love, despite him having had more relationships than was deemed healthy (in fact, Marius really didn't want to know how old Courfeyrac had been when he lost his virginity).

_Courfeyrac!_ The thought made Marius jump slightly. _What if he came back while he and Cosette were..._

Feeling his stomach turn, Marius rushed over to his friends four poster bed, examining once again the timetable pinned above Courfeyracs bed.

Ever since their third year of Hogwarts, Courfeyrac had created 'the timetable'. It was basically a colour coded, hand written chart of Courfeyracs many girlfriends and when he saw them on a weekly basis. In fact Marius was pretty sure that Courfeyrac pays more attention to this timetable than the one for the different subjects.

Not to mention, the fact that he had felt the need to give all of the group a copy, so that they knew when he needed privacy.

But on the other hand that had brought some humour, especially that time, when Courf had attached it to one of Enjolras' papers with a permanent sticking charm.

Marius shook his head, refocusing his attention of the row marked Thursday. A full set of names filled that row, which was why Marius and his girlfriend had chosen to do it today; Courfeyrac was busy all day, at that moment apparently he was busy with 'Leah' not that Marius had any idea who she was.

But in addition to this, Jehan had gone to the library to do some extra research and notes on charms, meaning that he should be gone for a few hours.

_So with any luck..._

"Marius,"

He jumped at the voice, and turned to see his angel standing in the doorway, looking more beautiful than Marius ever thought it was possible for a person to look.

He swallowed, taking a second to stare at the floor. _What if he screwed this up?_  
He raised his head, about it say something, when he realised that Cosette was now standing right next to him, her hand entwined in his. Marius could see his own fear and uncertainty reflected in her eyes, but along with it was love. Such adoration and trust, which Marius knew he had never done anything worthy enough to deserve.

But he felt exactly the same as Cosette; he trusted her completely.

Slowly they started to kiss. Slowly at first, as they always did, before becoming more and more passionate. The experience was different, exciting, and the two of them wanted more.

Marius had no idea how they ended up lying on the bed next to each other, but once he was, there was nothing in the world that could distract him from the unearthly creature before him.

For a while the two of them just lay there, staring at each other, trying to memorise each perfect detail of the others body.

Finally Cosette moved closer, her arm brushing against his arms

Marius seemed unable to keep a constant train of thought.

His hand coming to rest of her delicate hip.  
Drinking in every perfect bit of her flawless being.  
So beautiful.

**XXX**

Combeferre climbed the spiralling marble staircase alone, returning to his common room to study for his free hour, after already spending his lunchtime in the library.

To his surprise, he saw a familiar face outside his common room entrance.

"... Would you like to go out with me? I mean it's a hard time for me, I could really use a friend right now."  
The girl in question looked close to tears, as she looked up into the sincere brown eyes of the boy next to her.  
Typical.

Combeferre wouldn't have put it past Courfeyrac to invent a traumatic experience just to get a girl, he just wouldn't have thought that he had the acting skills to pull it off. But apparently he was wrong, the Ravenclaw mused as the Gryffindor girl scurried away.

"Nice," Courfeyrac smiled smugly to himself, as Combeferre approached him " Must try that one again- on someone with smaller teeth,"

"Courfeyrac, have you ever heard of inner beauty?"

"Well, yeah," The Hufflepuff smirked as he spotted his friend "but casual sex really works better if both people involved are hot," he said casually leaning back against the wall, giving Combeferre a suggestive look.

"Courfeyrac what the hell are you doing?"

He grinned wider "Seducing you with my eyes!"

"Please stop,"

"Why? Don't fight it! You know we're meant to be, I mean, how can you resist this sexy?" Courf mocked.

Huffing, his friend merely replied "Seriously Courfeyrac, did you want something, or were you just trying to have sex with everyone who comes down this corridor?"

"... Well I'm not opposed to the latter, but no there is a reason," the Hufflepuff replied, his tone suddenly business like.

Combeferre waited.

"Do you not know!?" Courfeyrac demanded, looking crestfallen.

"Should I?"

"Er, yes! It my time to get off with Daisy!"

Combeferre sighed, all feelings of guilt gone.

"How can you not know this? I gave you a coppy of the timetable!"

"Yes and I burned it!" The Ravenclaw said defensively, at his friends irritated face.

"I put a lot of hard work into that," Courfeyrac muttered to himself, causing Combeferre to snort.

"Anyway, I still don't see why you're hear, I mean, if you're- er- scheduled to, em... then what are you not... doing it?" The sandy haired teen questioned, getting steadily redder and redder.

"Well she's a Ravenclaw... so she's in Ravenclaw tower... which is through here," The Hufflepuff motioned to the shiny wooden door, looking embarrassed "and, well-"

"You can't answer the riddle, can you?" Combeferre asked with raised eyebrows.

"Not as such."

Combeferre merely rolled his eyes, checking he had all the books he needed as he did. Before approaching the door and knocking the bronze door knocker three times. The instant he did the bronze metal began to move, it's shining beak, twisting to form the words of a riddle.

"Give me food, and I will live; give me water, and I will die. What am I?"

"Fire," he answered without hesitation, he'd figured it out quickly the previous afternoon, and apparently the riddle hadn't been changed.

Courfeyrac bounded in ahead of Combeferre as the door swung open, Courfeyrac seemed perfectly at home in all four house common rooms.

Yawning slightly, Combeferre sat down heavily on one of the armchairs, rifling through his books, trying to figure out which ones he'd need that afternoon.

"What have you got next Courf?" The Ravenclaw asked absently.

In response Courfeyrac pulled out a timetable from his pocket, examining it quickly.

"Well, as you know, I've come here after seeing Leah, I'm about to, em... spend some time with Daisy. And after that I'm pretty sure that Ava will want another go at-"

"Wrong timetable, Courf! Wrong timetable! I meant what _lessons_ have you got next!" Combeferre practically shouted, thankfully cutting his friend off.

"Oh right," his friend replied, grinning at Combeferres flustered expression "I don't have anymore lessons today; it's Thursday! You know how I spend Thurday..."

"J-just go," Combeferre grumbled, trying to expel the images that were flashing through his mind.

"Don't mind if I do," Courfeyrac winked at his friend, before disappearing up the marble staircase to the dorms.

The Ravenclaw shook his head, half a smile on his lips, he really needed to find some new friends...

"I'm dying!" Came a rasp, behind the bespectacled Ravenclaw, as if to encourage Combeferre to find some other people to hang around with.

"We're all dying," he remarked in a monotone, there was no need for Combeferre to look up to see who had spoken.

"Yes, but I'm dying imminently"

Combeferre looked up half heartedly.

Joly a standing behind him, his eyes wide with fear, sweat covering his pale forehead, breathing heavily as though he'd just run a marathon.

Without hesitation, the other Ravenclaw yanked open the paving slab like book, and began flicking feverishly through it, searching his symptoms.

Combeferre couldn't resist smiled slightly as he watched his friend do this. It wasn't that he thought Joly did it for attention, or anything like that, but after he frequent 'illnesses' (and they really were frequent: Combeferre had lost count in their first year) it had become a little harder to take the brown haired boy seriously.  
Combeferre was snapped out of his thoughts by Jolys terrified voice, as he recited his symptoms.

"Insomnia! Headaches! H-hot flushes!"

"Menopause?" Combeferre enquired innocently.

"Combeferre, this is serious!" Joly pleaded "I want you to check me again!"

"Oh, Joly! I just-"

"Please!"

Exasperated, Combeferre placed a hand on his friends forehead, his temperature was fine, just the same as his pulse, when he checked that as well.

"Joly, you're fine, everything's normal,"

"B-but, but," the boy stammered looking close to tears.

Sensing an on coming panic attack, Combeferre reached into his bag, being Jolys dorm mate, as well as the 'dad' of the group, he was always prepared for the hypochondriacs antics. He quickly handed his friend a paper bag.

"Joly, just breathe okay, you're not going to die," Combeferre reasoned trying his best to reduce his friends heart rate, as the other snatched the paper bag, and made a desperate attempt and regular breathing.

The wisest thing for Joly to do was to try to relax a bit, otherwise he would be struck down by the heart attack that Combeferre was sure was heading his way.

He was about to tell Joly this, when they were interrupted by a sound not dis-similar to a dying whale, coming from the dormitories as Courfeyrac reappeared looking a little more than put out.

"She wasn't even there! She bloody stood me up! Can you believe that?"

He slumped down onto one of the comfy blue sofas, slinging his bag to the floor. Before shooting Joly, who was now breathing in and out of the bag so fast that he looked in danger of choking, a strange look.

"Er, what's up with him?" Courfeyrac asked, eyeing the other carefully.

"He's dying."

"Again?"

Combeferre gave a non committal grumble, as he reached to snatch the bag away from his friend.

"For goodness sake, Joly, don't inhale it!"

"Bu-but, library... Deathhhh, says- I-Illness-" as Joly began he standard post-panic-attack babbling, Combeferre could see Courfeyrac zoning out of their conversation.

"And-I-don't-know-what-to-do-and-I'm-going-to-die! -And-dragon-pox-and-spattergroit-and-" Jolys whines seemed to merge into one long, high-pitched drone, as Combeferre felt his attention span quickly diminishing.

"Yeah, you will not believe this!" Courfeyrac said, sitting up from his chair, bolt upright interrupting the others conversation. But they were quite used to this by now "I had nothing to do before lunch, okay, so you that Gryffindor girl?"

"Oh well, 'that Gryffindor girl' really narrows down our choices," Joly snapped, still irritable from his 'traumatising disease' though Courf seemed unaware of his tone.

"Rose, the red-head, she plays Gryffindor chaser,"

"Rose Weasley," Combeferre enquired, only half paying attention. Thank God Enjolras wasn't here, any mention of the Weasleys sent him into an annoyed rant, as he basically considered them to be Potters. Though Combeferre agreed that James Potter was an arrogant little child who delighted in humiliating, and discriminating others, but as far as Combeferre knew, his cousin, Rose Weasley, seemed okay. But either way it would be best to keep it from Enjolras to avoid a second battle of Hogwarts.

"Yeah, well she is hot, and we were alone in the library-"

"You were in the library!" Joly asked incredulously, but Courf took no notice.

"So I went over, said hello, and whatnot," Courf said his eyes wide "I used some of my best lines... and do you know she says?" The dark haired boy looked at his two friends who had returned to their reading; stories of Courfeyracs failed attempts at getting a girlfriend had gotten boring after two minutes of meeting him.

"Hello?" Courfeyrac persisted, waving his hand in front of Combeferres face "I said, do you know what she said!?"

"What?" Ferre asked in an uninterested tone.

"Nothing that's what!" The dark haired boy looked around waiting for a reaction "Hello! I said she said nothing! She ignores me- and then, she runs off after Malfoy...MALFOY! As in the cocky Slytherin perv..." Still no reaction from his fellows "Combeferre? Hello, HELLO! Have I turned invisible? Can you hear me?"

"Nope, not a bit," Joly answered without looking up.

The Hufflepuff just stood there for a moment looking at his friends as though they had committed blasphemy, before shaking his head with a mildly disgusted look "Okay I'm so fucking done with you two, you're just weird!" He muttered as he grabbed up his bad and started towards the door to the common room.

Neither Joly or Combeferre made a move to stop him; they both knew that he wasn't really angry, and even if he was, he could never stay angry for long.

As if to prove them right a mocking voice made the two Ravenclaws to look up a there friend, now standing in the doorway to the common room "Well I'll see you two prudes tomorrow, when I'm better rested. I've got places to be, and people to do," Courfeyrac smirked, waggling his eyebrows in a ridiculous manner, before finally disappearing out the door, and therefore raising the average IQ of the room by 20%.

Joly stared after him, his face midway between being impressed and disgusted. "Tell me again why we are friends with him?"

Combeferre chuckled slightly "His natural wit and social graces."

"Oh, right, of course,"

**XXX**

"... and then she goes running after Malfoy!"

Marius looked up at the indignant voice of Courfeyrac, in time to see his two room mates enter the dorm.

Jehan gave Marius a small, uncomfortable smile, before positing himself at his desk, to write more poetry no doubt.

Courfeyrac just sighed slightly, before turning his eyes upon Marius, sat innocently on the bed. There was something mischievous and knowing about the look in his eye._ No, he couldn't know, there was no way!_

The dark hair boys smirk said otherwise as he sat himself down on his own bed, grinning even wider at Marius "So, Pontmercy, what have you been up to on this fine everything?"  
"Nothing," the other replied as casually as he could.

Courfeyrac just grinned- if possible- wider, he looked like he was about to explode.

"Courf, what the-"

"You had sex, didn't you!"

"Courfeyrac!" Jehan gasped from his desk, looking embarrassed for his friend.

"How the hell did you know!" Marius demanded, not sure whether to be impressed or freaked out.

"Oh please!" Courfeyrac replied, waving his hand casually "It's me. I know these things! Sooo was it good? Did you do something wrong, oh you did, didn't you? What about Cosette? Any kinky habits you'd care to share? To be honest, I can't really imagine Cosette being the wild type but you never know, there was this one time when I-"

"Courf, fuck off! That's none of your business!" Marius managed to stutter, once he'd recovered from shock.

His dark haired friend opened his mouth, clearly about to disagree, before being silenced by a warning look from Jehan.

"An whatever, I have better things to do: need to go get ready, girl number 5 is coming up, and I plan on it being a long night if you know what I mean." Courfeyrac said smirking, as he walked into the bathroom, and began to prepare himself for his 'date'.

Jehan made no reply from the desk he was sat at, Marius muttered a half hearted "You're disgusting," before dragging his bag towards him. He had nothing better to do.

Flicking through his timetable, he let out a groan "Ugh look what we have tomorrow!" Marius' eyes scanned down the solid block of lessons "That's the worst day of the week!"

In the bathroom Courfeyrac nearly choked on his toothbrush "Are you fucking kidding me Pontmercy? Take a look at Tuesday, and say that again!"

"Hm, yeah Tuesday is pretty bad," Marius contemplated "What do you recon Jehan; worst day of the week?"

"Thursday." The boy replied, not even pausing from the poem he was writing, his back still to Marius.

The freckled boy looked up confused: Thursday was today. Thursday was a good day, they had the least lessons and the ones they did have were easy... What was there to dislike about Thursday?

"What?" Marius half laughed "Why?"

"Just don't like them." The boy replied shortly, continuing to scribble his poems furiously into his notebook.


	6. Chapter 6

**(please read the A/N at the bottom - thank you!)**

His hair - his eyes, the way he'd stood, his delicate hands,- his _voice_-

Grantaire groaned, putting his head in his hands. Just the fact that they had to go and "meet" them was painful in itself, but Grantaire had just gotten used to the sensation of living without him. It may have been dull and painful, but there was his parents to think about; if they caught him even _thinking_ about another guy in that way then it would probably have been the most painful experience of his life - way more painful than trying to forget about him.

Pain was not something Grantaire welcomed.

After the meeting, he had had to ditch Éponine outside the common room and go on a mad sprint around the castle, mainly just because he needed to work off the panic that was slowly seeping in through every pore in his body. Thankfully, there was no one about to laugh and heckle at him after hours.

Looking back, Grantaire was surprised that he never got caught, but, even if he had, the prefects probably wouldn't have said anything; he was in a rather extraordinary state.

Of course, Éponine had started apologising profusely as soon as Grantaire finally reappeared in the common room almost two hours later, having rubbed off the tear tracks and hallowed expression. She hadn't made the connection of "meeting" Gavroche's new friends and Grantaire's whole issue.

He couldn't help it; his obsession was taking over him.

Yet it wasn't quite like Éponine's infatuation with the Pontmercy - it was more than that. Éponine was always so gutsy and ready-for-anything, but she'd hadn't uttered a word to him since First Year that didn't contain an insult. She considered it her weakness, but to Grantaire it was so much more than that.

It was a huge part of him that wasn't filled - void and numb and limp. One of the reasons he kept up his incessant drinking was so that that piece of him finally burnt with the alcohol and hurt with the rest.

Suppressing it was a constant use of energy; always having to think of new topics for his brain to distract itself with, always looking for another bottle to drown himself in. He'd been doing so well - but how could he move on now?

It was an addiction, and he was losing himself to it.

Or maybe he already had?

Grantaire was so tired that he didn't even notice when a certain blonde slipped into the dormitory almost an hour after he himself returned. The blonde did not let his smile leave his face until he had silently changed into his night clothes and gotten into bed.

A dull thud echoed through the dormitory room at half past six that morning, just as Jehan was tugging the knots from his hair with an old blue hairbrush. Rolling his eyes at the lump on the floor, he eventually managed to get the final bugger out from the end of his hair and threw the hairbrush on the floor, relishing in the harsh crack it made.

Normally, he wouldn't dare do such a thing, but this morning was different. This morning, the sight of Courfeyrac on the floor in his underwear, having just fallen out of bed, didn't do anything except disgust him.

"For Merlin's sake, do you have no co-ordination?" Jehan snapped, causing Courfeyrac's head to snap up in shock, even though he was still half asleep. Aggression was not usually something that was even hinted at in Jehan's tone, so this was a surprise to say the least.

"Wh-what?" Courfeyrac stuttered, not questioning the query itself, but more the whole mood of the male in front of him. "Jehan, are you-"

"Don't bother." Jehan spat, causing hurt to flicker in Courfeyrac's eyes like a flame, "We all know you don't really care."

He cast a glance around the dorm at the other shocked Hufflepuffs.

"I'll see you downstairs."

Stunned silence followed Jehan out of the dormitory, but, for once in his life, he didn't care that he had just upset someone. This in itself was odd, because normally the only person he cared about was Courfeyrac, and yet he was the one Jehan was mad at.

Normally, the fact that he brought back girls wasn't much of an issue. Jehan just had to convince himself that he didn't really feel anything for them.

_That bloody timetable._

It was the source of almost 40 percent of Jehan's problems because it was a constant, painful reminder that Courfeyrac didn't love him; at least not the way he should. As he sat down at the Hufflepuff table that morning, he couldn't help but loathe the small piece of paper he carried everywhere with him, burning his skin with it's presence.

Moodily buttering his toast, he tried to forget the night before: Courfeyrac had come in at two in the morning, humming through his nose and relaying the details of his night before he'd even gotten into bed. There were some things about Angelina Spinnet that Jehan would rather not have known.

After almost ten minutes of chewing his toast, the seat opposite Jehan was occupied by Marius, his look weary. He was alone.

"Morning," His tone was light, but he knew Jehan wasn't really in the mood for talking. Still, he tried. "Thank Merlin it's Friday, huh?"

Jehan made a non-committal noise, but he saw Marius making hand gestures to someone further down the table, which he tried to conceal but failed.

Of course, Jehan sighed, They're all further down the table, waiting for Marius' judgement. But it appeared to be negative, as they all stayed where they were.

"Hey, we have Charms today," Marius tried to pick up the conversation, "You like Charms!"

Jehan took a deep breath, trying not to snap, knowing that Marius would keep trying until he got a response, no matter how upset the person got. He might as well answer now rather than in ten minutes when he was fuming.

"Look Marius, I'm sorry-" He began, but he was cut off by another voice, spine-tinglingly familiar, coming from the other side of the Great Hall, getting closer.

"Oi, Prouvaire!"

It was Courfeyrac.

"What the _fuck_ was that for?"

Wincing, Jehan twisted round in his seat to see Courfeyrac ten metres away, and advancing. A few Hufflepuff heads had turned to see what the commotion was about, but didn't look that stunned, as Courfeyrac often came into breakfast with a mouth on him. He had never been a morning person.

"Er- um, I-"

Mentally, he kicked himself. Could he not control himself for one minute? But Courfeyracs appearance was so carelessly handsome; tie askew, top button undone, shirt half tucked in, his hair shiny and yet scruffy, one hand in his pocket and the other holding-

The timetable.

That _fucking_ timetable.

Anger uncurled inside of him, exploding from it's tiny seed into a living, seething shadow, twisting erratically through his limbs, aching to break free of it's paper thin bonds.

"Oh, I'm _sorry_," Jehan started, sarcasm bleeding into his tone, "Did you miss the part where I'm pissed at you and we don't speak for the rest of the day?"

"No," Courfeyrac reached the bench, anger sketched onto his features, "I got that part, but I don't give a shit about your little tantrum rules."

"Really?" Jehan raised his eyebrows, "Looks like you care enough to make a scene out of it."

It was true. By now, the majority of the Hufflepuff table had turned to watch the spat, and half of the Gryffindor table had turned to look as well; even Enjolras' blonde curls were looking up from his black coffee to find the source of the disturbance.

"Don't worry," Courfeyrac replied, a smirk brushed onto his lips, "I think I can handle the drama."

Jehan tried not retort with a childish remark, but struggled, as - with everyone watching - he didn't want to back down.

"This is stupid," He managed, through gritted teeth, "And bloody childish. Just let me have my day; my one day to hate on the world."

"No," Courfeyrac spat, his fist clenched, effectively crushing the timetable, which he didn't appear to notice at the time, "You can't be angry. You're Jehan."

"What's that supposed to mean?" The blonde replied, his voice trembling slightly, although it was only really apparent to the student opposing him, "Are you saying I can't have bad days?"

"You're the happy one." He replied, simply, "You make us feel good when there's nothing left in the world to hope for, you're the one trying to cheer us up when we've had a bad day. There isn't a fierce bone in your body, that's just who you are."

The inky shadow inside Jehan straightened itself, preparing itself to unleash the fire that was burning within, but somehow the Hufflepuff managed to control it.

"You don't think I can be fierce?" His voice was low, but by now the entire Great Hall had stopped their bickering to listen, confused but riveted, to the argument between the two boys. "You don't think I can be passionate about the things - the people - I love?"

"N-now, I never said that-" Courfeyrac started, looking a little startled, stuttering for possibly the first time in his life, but Jehan cut him off almost instantly.

"You didn't say it, but that's what you thought." Sparks were flying in Jehan's stomach, and he was having a hard time keeping them inside; all he wanted to do was set them free, "Damn it Courfeyrac, I can be compassionate. I can be fierce. I can be whatever the hell I want - _whoever the hell I want_ - and you can't tell me otherwise."

Finally, when he felt like he just couldn't stand the shocked silence any longer, Jehan stood from his seat, the entire Hogwarts population staring, and he stormed out of the Great Hall, stupidly forgetting his bag in the process.

Never before had he blown up at Courfeyrac like that - never. _To think_, Jehan shuddered to himself, _that the first time it happened had to be in front of all those people... Next time, I'll wait until we get back to the Dorm for all that_.

Settling into the corner of an empty Charms classroom, his first lesson, that didn't commence for at least another half an hour, Jehan drew his knees up to his chest and tried to stay calm.

_He'd just upset Courfeyrac._

Whilst he tried to console himself, saying that Courfeyrac was being a dick and he deserved to be yelled at, he knew deep down that he'd failed himself. Courfeyrac was right - he was always the peacemaker, the happy one. How could he believe that his bad day had a right to ruin everyone else's?

"Sucks, huh?"

Startled out of his self pitying state, Jehan spun around to see Combeferre in the doorway, holding the blonde's bag in his outstretched hand.

"What sucks?" Jehan replied, almost positive that Combeferre was referring to arguing with his friend, but still the tiniest bit unsure. That tiny piece of grit was lodging itself in his heart and grinding against his nerves.

"Wanting someone you can't have."

All life stood still, time slowed down, Jehan was able to count the milliseconds that passed.

_How did he know?_

The words hung heavily in the silence, Combeferre's piercing look daring Jehan to deny it. Jehan felt them echoing in his ears, twisting into words they weren't, twisting into the things he didn't want to hear.

"I don't know what you're-"

"Don't." Combeferre's voice wasn't unkind, but it was firm. "You know exactly what I mean - you like Courfeyrac."

Opening his mouth to argue, Jehan tried to come up with a suitable, believable argument, but found none. Instead, he sighed, and reached out his hand for his bag, effectively inviting Combeferre to come and sit next to him.

The floor was cold and dusty, in desperate need for a clean although it was only a few days after it had been thoroughly swept. This was the thing Jehan held onto as Combeferre sat down next to him, bringing thoughts of Courfeyrac and pain in a sweep of cool air.

"How did you know?" Jehan asked, his voice tired, reigned in by the argument he'd just had. "Am I obvious?"

"No," Combeferre started, slightly hesitant, "It's not obvious. I'm just... Observant."

Slowly, Jehan slid down the wall until his back was slumped in an 'S' shape, probably causing havoc for the bones. Not that he particularly cared at that moment in time.

"What do I do?" Jehan whispered, more as a question to himself than to Combeferre, "If he realises that-"

"He won't." Combeferre assured him, quickly, "It's Courfeyrac. You have nothing to worry about."

Just then, the bell for the start of the first lesson went, signalling that the two should probably stand. However, before they had a chance, the door to the Charms classroom banged open, and the man of the hour walked in.

Courfeyrac.

For a few seconds, he didn't notice the pair sat in the ground, merely throwing his bag on his desk near the front, sighing deeply. Then, when he finally picked up on the movement out of the corner if his eye, he froze.

Turning to look at them, Combeferre recognised instantly what was flaming in his eyes; _jealousy_.

Heavy air hung around them, wrestling the life from their lungs.

Yelps and happy shrieks suddenly filled their ears as the rest of the class wandered in, barely noticing the tension between the original teens. This sudden burst of colour and noise meant that the eye contact was broken, luckily for Combeferre.

"I'll see you later, okay?" The Ravenclaw muttered to his friend, finally standing, noting how the brunette was watching them out of the corner of his eye, "Don't let him get to you."

"Thanks," Jehan murmured back, although he was barely listening; he was too busy trying to avoid looking at Courfeyrac, "I- I'll try."

**okily dokily so normally I hate authors notes but I felt this one was necessary (I can't even see straight oh god) and I'm sorry for the boredom but please do read it**

**both katy and i (oh yeah it's Emily typing btw) are going on a (small) weeks trip abroad to Amsterdam and Berlin, but we'll be back next Tuesday (23rd July), so there won't be any updates until then. hope you all liked the chapter and we'll see you on Tuesday! :)**


	7. Chapter 7

Saturday morning came and Courfeyrac was extremely pissed off.

Well _'extremely pissed off' was_ in fact a bit of an understatement. How could Jehan want to make everyone miserable, just because he was in a bad mood... And that's another thing: when was Jehan ever, repeat ever, in a bad mood? What did it take to put him in a bad mood? In fact if it had been in any other situation Courfeyrac would have been curious at what the trigger had been. But right now he was just plain annoyed. Jehan was a close friend... Probably one of his best friends. He hated being without him, but at the same time the brunette was far too stubborn to back down from an argument like he'd had with the poet the other day.

If fact he had been almost impressed with him for holding his ground like that, well, almost.

But that wasn't the worst of it: their friends had taken sides. Okay, not all of them had, but some had most definitely chosen who to hang around with, namely Combeferre. The very thought of the Ravenclaw prefect made him huff slightly, still half asleep.

He was just so fucking perfect! He was basically just Enjolras, but not quite as good-looking.

If he was being honest with himself, then Courfeyrac would admit that main reason he was getting annoyed at the Ravenclaw was because he hated the idea of Combeferre and Jehan hanging around together. But this was Courfeyrac; it was unusual for him to be honest to other people, yet alone himself. It wasn't that he purposely wanted to lie to people in order to cause them pain, it was more that he thought telling white lies was a good was of protecting people from the painful truth.

For example a parent might tell their child that the tales of Beedle the Bard are true, so that the child might have a happy time living in comfortable fiction than dealing with harsh realities.

Or how Courfeyrac would tell his girlfriends that he loved them completely, because then that would spare them the pain of knowing that he hardly liked them at all.

Or perhaps, well maybe... A person might even tell themselves that they don't care about someone, so they don't have to deal with the painful truth of realising their feelings for that someone just a little bit too late...

Not that that has anything to do with Courfeyrac, because Courfeyrac didn't care about Jehan! ...Or at least, that's what he told himself.

Shaking his head Courfeyrac sat up, groaning slightly. He always did this; whenever he felt angry or upset he would wake up really early. Which he hated, like, _really_ hated; _mornings were made to be slept through!_

But at least this gave him the chance to avoid Jehan, he would not give the blond the satisfaction of knowing that Courfeyrac was ignoring him.

So, against all better judgement, the Hufflepuff got up and realised the other thing that had been worrying him: quidditch. The first match of the season, Gryffindor vs Hufflepuff.

Pressing his tired eyes into is palms, Courfeyrac let out another groan, the birds were singing, singing for Merlins sake! _How early was it?_

Not daring to look at the clock in their dormitory, Courfeyrac shed his t-shirt before rummaging around in his trunk to find a clean set of clothes.

Once dressed, he walked quickly out of the room, pausing slightly at Jehans bed, and inspecting the smaller boy.

He slept on his side, curled up into a ball the covers pulled around him, strands of blond hair hanging lose from his braid. Framing his face perfectly, the stray bits of hair casting faint shadows which criss-crossed across his face. In sleep, Jehan seemed more serious, his delicate features were wiped of that little shimmer of light. His full lips were drawn into a small frown, his eyelashes trailed down onto his pale cheeks.

Courfeyrac had an instantaneous urge to touch the others porcelain skin, but, once again, he resisted. With no one around to impress or entertain, Courfeyrac allowed his smile to falter. The usually happy face was now marred by a frown, uncertainty and confusion etching themselves onto his own features.

Woken from his trance by one of Marius' ungodly snores, Courfeyrac swiftly departed the dormitory. Jehan was nothing to him.

The common room was just as quiet as his dorm had been, not a single thing moved, aside from the slow rise and fall of one of the seconds year's cat's chest.

But for once in his life Courfeyrac didn't want to socialise; he just wanted to be by himself. _Why? What the hell was wrong with him? Was this all because of his stupid little fight with Jehan? The little poet didn't mean that much to him!_

Bloody hell he really had gotten up early! Courfeyrac had reached the great hall to find that even their great and fearless leader had not yet risen. And that, by anyone's standards, was pretty bloody early.

Courfeyrac had eaten in silence, staring avidly at the table in front of him; with no friends to hang around with, time went much slower.

But when people finally began to file into the hall to eat, murmuring excitedly about the oncoming match, the Hufflepuff once again felt a need to separate himself from everyone else.

So once he'd finished he quickly got up, intending on going to the stadium early and train a little before the match.

But just as the curly haired boy reached the polished wooden doors, he just spotted his friends coming down the marble staircase.

"Good luck Marius! I just know you'll be great!" Jehan squeaked as he and Marius walked together into the great hall, Combeferre and Joly just behind them, also looking care-free. Combeferre sped up slightly whispering something to Jehan making the blond grin and giggle. Courfeyrac huffed, still half concealed between the stone pillars before slouching down towards the quidditch pitch.

Dark thoughts swirled around Courfeyracs head as the youth crossed the lawn. Finally admitting to himself that Combeferre was probably at the top of his 'Hate list' right now.

_It was just... Jehan was his, not like that, but he was his best friend. Jehan was special, just like his relationship to Jehan was special, and Courfeyrac didn't like, want, or appreciate Combeferre sticking his nose into their business._

_But that didn't mean anything! Like he said: his relationship with the poet was special._

_In fact it was perfectly natural that Courfeyrac should want Jehan to be careful, or to make sure he didn't get hurt, or to punch Combeferre around his annoying face if he dared do anything wrong!_

_Well, maybe not the last one, but the others were nothing less than a healthy display of emotion for a friend._

_But... No! Jehan can't like Combeferre! He just can't!_

_Jehan needs someone less... Less nice! Wait, that doesn't even make sense! Or does it?_

Courfeyrac quickly occupied himself with getting into the changing rooms, you see that is why he should never be given any responsibilities: he confused himself on a daily basis.

He was still moody, though...

_No! Jehan would not win this, no fucking way! I'm gonna beat him at his own game! I'll be the nicest, happiest Courfeyrac possible, and then everyone else will see that I'm not effected by Jehan's temper tantrums!_

Yes, that was a good plan, Courfeyrac decided. Throwing his broom carelessly to one side, the dark haired boy sprung towards the door knowing that Marius had a habit of getting to the changing rooms early.

When his friend finally did arrive, Courfeyrac was waiting at the entrance, grinning as wide as was physically possible.

"Courfeyrac..." Marius raised his eyebrows in disbelief at his friends Cheshire grin "Are- are you in pain or something?"

Ignoring his friends comment Courfeyrac forced himself to continue in a voice that was even more positive than normal "So, are you looking forward to the match?"

"Yeah, but Potter always gets way too competitive," Marius said half-heartedly fiddling with the hem of his jumper.

"Ah well,"Courfeyrac replied, yawning as he spoke "We'll be able to win, besides we can't have you losing in front of that girl of yours" Courfeyrac finished with a wink, deternmined to act naturally. His smile growing as he caught Marius' look; halfway between annoyance and a blush.

"Besides," Courfeyrac, continued changing the subject, as they returned to the changing room and began to get into their quidditch kits "Gryffindor may be tough, but they're not the hardest"

"You mean Slytherin?" Marius asked off-handedly

"Yeah!" Courfeyrac snorted.

Marius lent against his broomstick and said "You know, the only reason you don't like Slytherin is because Scorpius was the only beater to ever knock you off your broom,"

"Hey! I had my back turned, so it doesn't count!... And besides, I got him back for that," the dark haired boy finished evilly.

Marius simply rolled his eyes as Courfeyrac continued "And, anyway I wasn't talking about him; Albus is actually a pretty good seeker and don't get me started on that Thenardier girl,"

"Eponine" Marius corrected.

"Whatever, she's too good a chaser for her own good; I've never seen anyone make a clean sweep 5 go that fast!" Courfeyrac ranted, picking up his comet 269 and attempting to yank out a stray twig. Casting a murderous glare at Marius' Nimbus 2000, he muttered something about Marius being a rich boy.

But before his friend could retort, the door banged open, revealing the Hufflepuff captain, a tall seventh year girl, who at the moment looked very annoyed.

Courfeyrac jumped round so quickly he almost dropped his broom; now would be a perfect opportunity to show that he was the same-old Courfeyrac as before. His face grew into a seductive grin, before he leant against the wall "Hey blondie, you're looking well this morning, very well in fact. Has anyone ever told you that you're very attractive?" to which the captain replied by up sticking her middle finger at him.

By the time the two boys were in their canary yellow kit, the rest of the team had joined them and were preparing for the match. Courfeyrac was watching two of the chasers, Ava and Chetta, chatting as they waited to start, as the captain matched up to the two boys ready to talk tactics.

"Ok, Marius, Rose Weasley has a strong throw, but isn't all that good at doing clever tricks with the quaffle, she'll go for the obvious shot, so even if you can't make a clean save, just knock it out of the way." The captain said briskly, before turning to Courfeyrac "I know that you dislike James so your job is easy; he needs to be kept as busy as possible, so you're going to target him,"

"Challenge accepted," Courfeyrac smirked, spinning his beaters bat in his hand.

As he did so a cheer rose from the stadiums, evidently the Gryffindor team had entered the pitch.

Scowling, the Hufflepuff captain grabbed her broom and matched onto the pitch, determined not to be outdone by the Gyffindor team.  
"Courfeyrac, come on!" Marius hissed at his friend. For half a second Courfeyrac had been occupied with thoughts of Jehans strange anger. He shook himself slightly, though he had tried to push the poet from his mind but that damn blond just kept worming his way back into Courfeyracs mind. Well, if they won- which they were going to- then the after party would be a perfect time to make up with Jehan.

Courfeyrac just couldn't stand being without his best friend, even if he had been the one to start the argument.

Smiling slightly at the thought, Courfeyrac snatched his wind-beaten broomstick, and sped after the rest of the team who already heading out of the tent and onto the pitch.

The roar that rose from the Hufflepuff side of the stands was immense. Courfeyracs ears were ringing, as he and the rest of the Hufflepuff puff team continued across the grass. The cluster of red robes stood out against the cheering fans, James Potter easily recognisable, clutching his beaters bat.

When it came to quidditch, James and Courfeyrac matched each other in both skill and strength, each match between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff turned into a contest of which beater was best.

His captains words echoed in Courfeyracs head _'you're going to target him' _the dark haired boy smirked, tightening his grip on his own bat, as the two captains shook hands.

"Right, mount your brooms," the referee ordered. As the players prepared to begin, she continued "Now, I want a nice clean game!"

The professor hissed, releasing the snitch. In the distance Courfeyrac could vaguely make out the commentator, but he was far too focused on the maroon quaffle held by the referee.

There was a short sharp blast off a whistle, and fourteen sets of feet kicked off the grounds.  
~ ~ ~

"Enjolras, over here!" Combeferre called. He and Joly were sat towards the back of the stands. The sixth years had climbed to the highest stand, meaning that only the front few rows were occupied, so the three were sitting on their own row, in the Ravenclaw box. As it was one of the stands for Ravenclaw there was a mixture of supporters for both Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, but the three boys all borrowed Hufflepuff scarfs for the occasion. Even Enjolras, but that was only because the Gryffindor team contained a Potter and two Weasleys, therefore he was obviously choosing his friends team rather than that of his own house.

"You're just in time, the match started two minutes ago," Combeferre continued as his friends sat down next to him. As Enjolras looked across the pitch he could see steaks of red and yellow speeding through the air in pursuit of the maroon quaffle. After a second of squinting the blond made out Courfeyrac, speeding through the air, his bat raised. Even as Enjolras watched, his friends sent an expertly aimed bludger at one of the Gryffindor chasers, who had to swerve out of the way to avoid it.

Turning back to his friends, Enjolras asked "Where's Jehan?". The poet was missing from the group.

Combeferre gestured to the stand opposite "I think he wanted some quiet time, but Cosette's checking on him."

Combeferre let the group fall into a comfortable silence, but his mind was racing with thoughts of Jehan and Courfeyrac. He felt sorry for Jehan, he truly did. It must be awful to love someone as careless and oblivious as Courfeyrac. Not that he ever meant to be, but somehow he still managed...

And yet Combeferre knew what he had seen: Courfeyrac had looked genuinely jealous of Combeferre and Jehan before charms, and as if to confirm Combeferres suspicions, Courfeyrac had been a lot colder towards him for the rest of the previous day.

It just didn't seem fair, Combeferre thought. Though he didn't know as much, or was nearly as observant as his friends, Enjolras was also contemplating yesterdays argument. Though Enjolras was terrible as understanding social issues, even he had noticed the tension in the group, but not just between Courfeyrac and Jehan, but also between Courfeyrac and Combeferre. But Enjolras couldn't for the life of him understand why.

The blond was about to enquire further when Joly let out a whine "Oh, what if Courf falls off his broom!"

"Oh Joly stop worrying, Courfeyrac may be clumsy, it he's not an idiot," Ferre soothed.

"Are we thinking of the same person?" Enjolras asked slyly.

"How many other Courfeyracs do you know?" Combeferre replied dryly, as Joly dove deeper into a panic attack

Turning his attention away from the sound of Combeferre reasoning with Joly, Enjolras refocused his attention on the match.

Hufflepuff was winning, but only by one point.

The commentator, Lorcan Scymander, was talking so fast that it was a strain to make out individual words "- and Weasley's got the quaffle, he's going to go for a- No he's been hit by a bludger! Hufflepuff beater, Pute managed to hit Weasley, he's dropped the quaffle, picked up by Bowring of Hufflepuff, she's headed for the posts, and- ohhhh that's got to hurt! Now she's dropped the quaffle, and the other Wealseys got it, she's right up close to the post now, she shoots! But it's saved! A truly spectacular save from Pontmercy!"

Even Enjolras couldn't help but grin at that; after last seasons spectacular defeat to Slytherin, Marius had vowed to practise every day of the summer, and apparently it had paid off.

Combeferre gave a polite clap, before resuming conversation "So how did you do in the start of term transfiguration test?"

"All correct" Enjolras said proudly.

"What about you, Joly?"

"Erm, I didn't do too well on mine..." Joly muttered, hanging his head in shame.

Enjolras frowned, it wasn't like Joly to do badly in a test.

Combeferre just half-smiled "Oh, weren't you feeling well?" He commented innocently.

"Something like that," the hypochondriac replied quietly.

Enjolras was just about to ask if something was wrong, when Combeferre stood up in his seat. "Hey, Eponine! Do you want to sit with us?" Enjolras turned to see a pair of sixth years walking up the side of the seats a little way from them. The girl, Enjolras presumed was Eponine looked shocked upon being addressed, she quickly looked around to check there wasn't anyone else around, before deciding to make her way up to where the three of them were sitting.

The girl had almost reached the seat next to Enjolras when she suddenly stopped and pushed the boy behind her forward, thereby forcing the other sixth year, who looked even more awkward than his friend to sit next to Enjolras.

Looking sideways Enjolras observed the two brunettes. The girl was short and thin with tanned skin. Her dark eyes observed the group from beneath unruly dark curls, which fell onto her shoulders. While she couldn't really be described as pretty, she was certainly striking and attractive. The boy, on the other hand, was handsome; he had been blessed with good looks, just not the drive to look after them. His inky black hair formed wild curls, that fell carelessly across his forehead, his features were classically shaped, but his skin was a sickly pale colour, aside from the dark circles beneath his blue eyes.

Enjolras, vaguely recognised the two Slytherins, and gave the pair polite hello, before allowing Combeferre to speak "This is Eponine, she's my potions partner," he said nodding toward the girl who nodded "and, you're Grantaire, right?" Ferre asked kindly. The boy in question stared at the floor muttering a yes.

Joly opened his mouth to reply but before he could the stadium erupted into cheers around them.

"-and that was a fabulous point for Hufflepuff! They're now thirty points ahead of Gryffindor, but it's still an awfully close match!"

Couferac circled the pitch, slightly above the other players, his teeth, gritted. Hufflepuff may be winning, but the scores were much too close for his liking, and neither teams seeker had shown any indication of seeing the snitch.

A bludger hurtled towards him, without hesitation Courfeyrac sent it back up the pitch, hopefully to peruse a Gryffindor player.

Still frowning, the Hufflepuff urged his broom forward, weaving his way between other players- Gryffindors, and Hufflepuffs alike.

Rose Weasley caught his eyes, she was soaring towards the Hufflepuff goalposts. Cursing, Courfeyrac took chase. However before he managed to get to her she threw the quaffle at the centre goalpost.

Seemingly from nowhere Marius appeared, diving towards the maroon ball, knocking it away just in time.

A cheer erupted from the stadium, and even Courfeyrac let out a small sigh of relief, but it was a short lived.

A bludger zoomed past him, inches from his face. Courf jerked sideways out of instinct, as the jet black ball shot past him. Heart pounding he turned to see James Potter hovering several meters from him smirking at almost hitting the other teams beater.

Courfeyrac opened his mouth, about to yell an obscene string of curse words at the other player, when he realised that the two seekers had gone into a dive, both tearing after a tiny glitter of gold.

Courfeyracs eyes searched desperately for a bludger to hit at the seekers. One was right at the other end of the pitch, but one was just several feet above him.

_Yes! The Gryffindor seeker was in the perfect range for him to hit!_

Spinning his entire body around, Courfeyrac sped upwards as fast as his battered broomstick would allow. He raised his bat, ready to hit.

Now only a metre away, the brunette lashed out with his arm, the heavy wooden bat slammed into the bludger, the sound echoing through the stadium as the bludger zoomed directly towards the Gryffindor seeker.

Satisfied Courfeyrac pulled his broom to a halt, but before he could see the result of his shot, something slammed into his head.

Agony exploded across his face.

Blood spurted down his robes as a sickening crack echoed inside Courfeyracs head. The force of the impact forced him backwards, his hands groped in midair, desperate for something to hold onto. The outraged roar of the crowd split his skull like a knife.

Wincing away from the pounding in his head, he slipped sideways into nothingness.

"They've seen the snitch!" The shriek from the second year, sat three rows in front of them snapped the sixth years out of their conversation about squib rights (which Grantaire had actually had a useful input in).

The pair of seekers merged into a blur of red and yellow.

Enjolras turned his eyes to Courfeyrac, the beater heading straight towards one of the bludgers, obviously about to hit it towards the Gryffindor seeker.

"He won't get it," Eponine muttered in disbelief.

"He will," Combeferre said knowingly, Courfeyrac really did have spectacular aim, and a natural talent for quidditch.

As if to prove him right Courfeyrac reached the bludger and smashed his bat into the ball sending it towards the Gryffindor player in a perfectly straight line.

But just as Courfeyrac slowed down, something caught Enjolras' eye: James Potter was was soaring towards the Hufflepuff beater, his bat out-streatched. _What in Merlins name is that idiot doing?_

A gasp escaped the marble mans lips as Enjolras leapt to his feet. James' bat had just hit Courfeyrac, hit him straight in the face, deliberately!

His friend was so high up that Enjolras couldn't see the extent of damage that the thick wooden club had done. But he most defiantly saw his friend wobble sideways, stranded for a second in limbo, before his body crumpled sideways and he fell.

"Told you he'd fall."

"Joly, now is really not the best time to be pedantic," Combeferre said, trying not to keep the snarl out of his voice.

Courfeyrac was lying in a bed in the hospital wing, his friends all cramped into the tiny area around his bed, even Eponine and Grantaire were there, although they were waiting awkwardly by the door.

Enjolras, Combeferre, and Joly stood on one side of the bed, Jehan, Cosette and Marius on the other side.

Though Jehan hadn't done anything to cause Courfeyrac to end up lying in the hospital wing, unconscious, he still felt incredibly responsible: the last thing he'd said to Courf was that he couldn't tell him what to do when, in fact, Jehan would do absolutely anything for the curly haired man who he would forever adore.

It was just lucky that someone had cast a cushioning charm, otherwise who knew how bad the injuries could be?

Right now though, Courfeyrac still looked dreadful; already a huge purple bruise had blossomed across his forehead, stretching into a horrific black eye. His nose had been broken very badly spraying blood across his entire face, though the school matron had fixed his noise in an instant, the scarlet stains still blotted his tanned skin and quidditch robes.

Madam Pomfrey had said that he would be totally fine in just a few days at most, but that she would want he to stay in the hospital wing for at least one night in case of concussion.

But either way he should be waking up soon.

"Can't believe Potter got away with that!" Marius growled outraged "_'I was trying to hit the bludger but he just got in the way, and I didn't see him in time' _yeah right, Courf had already hit the bludger halfway up the pitch! He did that on purpose!"

"That's just what he's like, Potter is nothing more than an arrogant, petty, spoilt little brat!" Enjolras retorted - one of the few things that he and Marius agreed on was a mutual hatred for James Potter.

"Shh!" Cosette urged her boyfriend as he opened his mouth to continue ranting "He's waking up!"

It was true, as she spoke, the boy lying before them stirred slightly, before letting out a groan "I know I've said it before, but I really am gonna stop drinking,"

The entire group let out a collective sigh - not even getting hit round the head by a wooden bat could change Courfeyrac.

Enjolras was the first to recover "Courfeyrac, you _moron_! Don't joke about this, you could have died!"

"And then you would be forced to carry on without me! Oh, your life would be so dull!" The boy joked, sitting up with enormous effort. His face looked ten times worse; almost a quarter of his face was lost beneath swollen skin which had turned a nasty shade of purple.

Something of this must have showed on his friends faces, because the injured boy suddenly looked worried "What, why are you looking at me like that?"

In response, Cosette drew a small mirror from the inside of her robes and handed it to him.

"My face! My beautiful face! How am I gonna get laid now!? I've lost my bang-ability!"

"It's good to see you've got your priorities sorted out," Combeferre joked quietly.

At this Courfeyrac actually dipped his head slightly, his curls falling across his face, covering the worst of the injury, as he grinned. Then his eyes focused in Jehan.

"Well, it's nice to see you again," Courfeyrac said impassively. Jehans face filled with guilt.

The rest of the group quickly sensed a change in the atmosphere at Courfs beside, and left, muttering excuses of homework. Or rather everyone caught on but Enjolras, who had to be dragged out by Combeferre, leaving the two Hufflepuffs in an awkward silence.

"Courfeyrac, I-" Jehan looked like a deer caught in the headlights, as he stuttered over his apology "I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to be, well, mean, I just I didn't feel good, but that's no excuse and I..." He fell into silence from one look at Courfeyrac, and stared intently at his feet.

"You finished yet?"

Jehan gulped, about to attempt another stuttered apology, when Courfeyrac laced his arm around Jehans delicate waist and pulled him onto the bed, so Jehan was sitting on the bed next to Courfeyrac.

The dark haired boy looked up, grinning, as always, but this time it was more of a sad, apologetic smile "I shouldn't have said that you're not allowed bad days, everyone feels down at some point. You shouldn't bottle it all up for our sake."

Jehan was still staring at his shoes.

"So, are we okay?"

The poet didn't answer immediately "I thought you were going to die. When I saw you falling-" Jehan shook his head, unable to express in words what that experience would do to him. As he continued, Courfeyrac was unable to keep a small flare of happiness from rising in his chest "I didn't want you to get hurt, especially after we'd been arguing, you're... You're the nicest person I know. I really care about you." The poets words were so heart felt that he didn't even blush.

"I care about you too, you know," Courfeyrac replied. Despite his fatigue, and the enormous amount of effort it took, the dark haired boy placed his rough hand onto Jehan's delicate one.

"So are we okay?" Courfeyrac asked again. From the look on Jehans face, you'd have thought he was a blind man seeing light for the first time.

Without answering the smaller boy flung his arms around the other and hugged him as tightly as he could.

Courfeyrac ignored the pain this caused; it was worth it.

"Em, Jehan, Madame Pomfrey, says that we need to go and let Courfeyrac rest a while," Combeferre was stood just inside the doorway, evidently sent back to retrieve the poet.

"Okay," Jehan turned back to Courfeyrac, his eyes shining with concern "Can I come and see you tomorrow?" Courfeyrac had a hard time keeping the smug look from his face: Jehan wanted to stay with him, not Combeferre.

"Of course," the dark haired boy said as coolly as possibly, turning his eyes dramatically to the ceiling.

Without warning, Jehan, once again lent down and wrapped his small arms around Courfeyracs broad shoulders. Despite the increasing pain in his chest, Courfeyrac was unable to stop a little flutter of happiness growing bigger and bigger within him at having the poet back.

"Just get better soon Courf," he muttered shyly before turning and scurrying towards Combeferre, who was waiting at the oak doors of the hospital, smiling for some reason Courfeyrac couldn't understand.

But for the first time Courfeyrac didn't care that Jehan was going off with Combeferre, or anyone else for that matter, because he knew that the little blond poet still belonged to him.


	8. Chapter 8

**_TW: Self harm_**

Grantaire let out a sob, his fists tightly clenched, gripping onto the end of his sleeves. This just wasn't good enough, he wasn't good enough; he'd failed everybody. Everything he'd ever said or done was just a failure to him, to his parents and to his friends. Words streamed out of his mouth before he could stop them, telling everyone he was fine, deflecting their questions with his sarcasm and sharp tongue.

The blood was warm and wet, slowly soaking through his thin school shirt. If he'd have known how tonight was going to end, he'd have taken a few more shots of Firewhiskey at the Hogs Head. But he hadn't, and here he was. Of course he hadn't known how to fix it; he was numb inside.

A low moan reached his ears, so full of pain and desperation it made him jolt, only to realise that the moan was his. He was the one that was crying out for help, terror and panic seeping in through the groan.

But no-one would come to his aid, no matter how much he screamed. He was in the Room of Requirement, a soundproofed, locked room which was decorated sparsely; perfect. The way he felt was a deep hole inside of him, slowly expanding, keeping him taught and stressed, constantly on edge. No-one understood quite how much he hated himself. It wasn't the regular _I'm-a-teenage-girl-and-I-think-I'm-fat_ hate, it was a complete head-to-toe, every single word, all characteristics self-loathing. Since he was fourteen, he'd started taking it out on himself. At first it was just flicking an elastic band on his wrist, causing it to smart, but not scar or show for long. Then, he progressed to drinking and marking his skin a little more vigorously at around fifteen.

He hadn't been able to pinpoint the day that he'd turned to serious self-harm, but it had been some time near the end of fourth year, and it had changed his life forever. Éponine had been helpful, more than helpful – a saint, but even she hadn't been enough. Nobody had been.

When he met Enjolras just before he turned fifteen, he'd felt a stir of hope in his chest. It was like a shining light had been thrown onto his life, and it had warmed him from the inside out. _Did he know about all this? Did anyone?_

_Did anyone even care?_

A sob escaped his lips, and he tugged his sleeves further down his arms, and sank to his knees. The blood started to run down his arms and drip off his fingers, and he watched it, watched the rich liquid pool together on his lap, his legs- the floor.

It was where he should be; on the floor, beneath everyone else.

The group had tried to make him feel better, tried so hard to make everyone feel equal. But no-one had known his dirty secret, his unknown add-on.

But so what if he was bisexual? It wasn't like he was the only one on the planet.

But the wizarding society was backward in so many ways. If he'd come out to his parents, he'd have been banished and cut off from the family completely. As much as he hated the culture he'd been brought up in, he was too much of a coward to tell people. The only person that knew was Éponine, and she knew all about Enjolras too. Together, they'd brooded over the guys they couldn't have, wallowing in self-pity and despair.

That was the good thing about her; she understood the pain of not being able to have the person you wanted.

When they'd first gone to these 'house unity' meetings, it had been more of a joke than a serious visit, but they ended up going to almost all the meetings there were. It had a friendly feel, a happy atmosphere, and most of the visits didn't even concern the unity issues. Mostly, it was just for a laugh, and there wasn't must planning involved, but sometimes it was serious. Posters were put up and events were proposed, but that was only once a fortnight or so. Every other session was merely a way to let off steam and stop stressing about revision and exams.

But all of that was a pointless part of this stupid life. Why bother with exams? All they tested was memory. So what if Grantaire didn't know how to turn an armchair into a china statue? It was one of the most pointless spells in existence.

Another moan dragged Grantaire to the present, a sharp shot of pain ripping through his arm. After a few seconds of gasping, Grantaire let himself fall to the floor, a whimper escaping him as his face made contact with the hard surface, slick with blood.

_What was the point?_

He felt his heart lift, and he realised it was the feeling of completely giving up - in an odd way, it felt really good. He felt- pure?

"G-Grantaire?"

The small, shocked voice rang in the vast room, empty of all furniture. A small blade, slick with blood, lay on the floor a metre or so away from him, but Grantaire's eyesight wasn't focusing properly, and his arms refused to move. Tauntingly, the metal glinted at him.

But even in that state, he recognised that voice.

"We need to get you to Madam Pomfrey."

* * *

Light creeped its way in through his eyelids, peeling them open with soft warm colours and the temptation of sight. Slowly, the image started to bleed in, focusing and blurring rapidly but for longer periods each time. For a while, Grantaire had a hard time remembering where he was and how he got there, but then, he heard that voice again.

"Don't you need to change his bandages or something?"

Even before he saw her, he pictured her pacing up and down the small area to the side of his bed, a small, fierce frown etched onto her striking face. She will have tried to read, or concentrate on something else, Grantaire knew, but she wouldn't have been able to do anything for more than five minutes. Once you were drawn onto that girl's heart, there was no amount of scrubbing that could get you off.

"I changed them thirty minutes ago, Miss Thénardier. Please, try to stay calm."

"I am calm." Muttering followed this statement, but Grantaire guessed that the Nurse wouldn't want to know exactly what it translated to. "God damn it, Grantaire."

Blinking furiously, Grantaire struggled to sit up. However his arms, caked in bandages, chose to shake weakly instead of haul him into a sitting position. The movement caught Éponine's eye straight away, and she was over in a shot.

A loud smack rang out through the Hospital Wing.

"GRANTAIRE, YOU SON OF A BITCH!" She yelled, causing all the other patients to look up in shock at this sudden display of anger. Grantaire barely noticed – he was too busy nursing the cheek she had just slapped. "HOW COULD YOU? HOW COULD YOU EVEN THINK ABOUT DOING THAT TO YOURSELF? AND NOT JUST YOU, GOD DAMN IT, TO EVERYBODY THAT-"

Suddenly, her mouth kept moving, but the sounds stopped coming out. Pure outrage spilled over her features, but she didn't stop silently yelling at Grantaire.

"Phew."

The boy opposite Grantaire let out a sigh, grinning when Grantaire noticed him. He looked like he'd been in a Quidditch injury, but not too severe – a broken leg, perhaps. His wand was out, and he looked immensely relieved that his silencing charm had worked. Curly brown hair adorned his head, and he had piercing blue eyes that looked vaguely like a bird of prey's. He was definitely older than Grantaire; a seventh year.

"Merlin girl, you can really shout."

At that, the 'girl' turned on him, her eyes burning with anger, but, before she could run in and break his other leg, Madam Pomfrey came rushing in.

"My goodness, Miss Thénardier, was that you?"

The Matron didn't stop talking until she reached the brunette who was still glaring daggers at the broken-leg boy, probably cursing him seven ways to Sunday in her head. Finally taking pity, and realising that the Nurse would make him do it anyway, the boy lifted the charm, shooting her an apologetic grin afterwards.

"Miss Thénardier, I'm afraid I simply cannot allow you to stay here if you're going to upset my patients." The tone was stern, but Grantaire knew the nurse had a soft spot for Éponine, ever since she'd been a third year defending a fifth year Muggleborn, and had come into the wing under all sorts of hexes and charms, not too happy about the healing arrangements. Even back then, she'd had a mouth on her.

"I won't do it again, Madam Pomfrey." Éponine replied, sighing, rubbing her temples, looking like she just wanted to cave in and collapse on the floor even then. "Blame the son of a bitch over there. He's the one that tried to fucking do himself."

Sighing, Madam Pomfrey walked over to the bed, politely choosing to ignore Éponine's choice of words, and placed a potion carefully on Grantaire's bedside table.

"This is to help speed up the healing process, and this for replenishing the blood you lost." She pulled another one out of her pocket, this one much smaller. "And this- well, this is a potion with a specific purpose."

She hesitated, before asking Éponine to draw the curtains around the bed, beckoning her to sit beside Grantaire.

"This potion is for the depression-"

Grantaire opened his mouth to interrupt her, but a stern look shut him up instantly.

"-as I presumed that's what you're suffering from, after a short assessment. After I cleaned up your cuts, I noticed that they weren't the only ones."

Slowly, she sank down into the chair next to the bed, still not quite meeting Grantaire's eye.

"From the look of them, this has been going on for a few years, I expect?" She didn't wait for an answer, "I know that in situations like these, most people don't want to go for help, but it's too big of a burden to carry alone."

Grantaire barely noticed Éponine's hand sneak into his, but when he did he was grateful. Whilst she was probably doing it for her own comfort, it helped him too. She was real, and she wanted to help. What more could a best friend be?

"We need to contact your parents."

That sentence jolted Grantaire out of his relatively calm state, as the consequences that followed that sentence were not ones he wanted to think about.

"Please-" His hand shot out of Éponine's and gripped the bed sheets as he tried to mentally plead with Madam Pomfrey as well as verbally. "I swear to Merlin, I'll do anything. Whatever mumbo-jumbo shit, honestly - like therapy, pills, even fucking meditation, just please- don't tell my parents."

"Language. And it's a legal requirement, I'm sorry." Madam Pomfrey had paled significantly, but was standing her ground.

"They'll kick me out." Grantaire said, not really to the nurse but more to himself, steeling himself. "They'll- Oh shit. Oh- Merlin, shit I-"

"Language." Madam Pomfrey muttered, but took a deep breath. "I- I will discuss with the Headmistress what we are to do next. If you really do not want to tell your parents, I think we could make an exception. After all, you're 17 in a few months, technically an adult, in the wizarding world."

Suddenly, the black hole in Grantaire's stomach made a reappearance. It had been lingering the entire time, it always had, and always would, but the thought of his parents had dragged it back into the present, into the centre of his attention. Everything felt useless.

Fuck it, he thought, why not tell the parents? He was going to get kicked out anyway. Once they sorted out a pre-arranged marriage, he was done for. At some point, he was going to have to turn around and look the bastards in the eye, but he hadn't the courage. Had anyone?

"Madam Pomfrey," Éponine's voice was soft but closed off, something Grantaire rarely heard. "Could you give us a minute?"

"Of course." The nurse looked grave, but rose from her seat and exited, leaving the two in silence, Éponine's hand somehow finding its way back into Grantaire's.

Silence settled over them both for a few seconds, and Grantaire could have sworn the whole Hospital Wing had hushed to hear their conversation.

"I- Éponine, I'm sorry-"

"Don't." She sounded tired; drained. "Please, don't say you're sorry. I know you're not."

Swallowing, Grantaire shut his eyes, hearing the disappointment in her tone and letting it stab him senseless.

"Grantaire, God damn it, open your eyes."

Unwillingly, his eyes fluttered open again, only to see her pained, fierce ones staring back at him.

"Look," Her serious tone was back, but he didn't want to hear it. He tried to block her out, but her voice was like his conscience – it felt more familiar to him than his own, "I love you Grantaire and it's killing me that you're doing this to yourself. You're my best fucking friend, and I am the most selfish person on the planet - I am not gonna give you up easy. That git has been trying to get in to see you for hours now, but I won't let him. You're going to think of a cover story, you're going to stop this-this-"

He watched her eyes fill up with more tears as she spoke, but he heard the passion in her tone. This time, it stirred a little hope. If one person wasn't worth fighting to stay alive for, what was?

"-this torture. This thing you're doing to yourself. It's going to stop, and I'm going to help you."

Her fierce voice lifted Grantaire – he could do this. He could stop this self-loathing thing, right? But it all came crashing down again almost instantly.

"I've tried. Trust me, I've tried," He managed to get out, his tone flat and emotionless, "But she follows me everywhere. No matter how sure I am that I've shaken her off, she comes back. She always comes back."

Vivid images of depression hunting Grantaire spiked up in his brain, dragging him down again; like she always did. She was his dark side – a part of him; his very own slither of depression.

"No. You will beat this shit, Grantaire. God damn it, if I have to shackle myself to you and start popping you happy pills every hour, you will beat it. You hear me?"

Slowly, the male nodded, before yawning and trying to shake himself awake, desperate not to lose himself to the darkness again.

"No, no – you rest." Éponine stood to leave, her hand slowly dropping out of his, "I'll be back to check on you in a few hours."

But Grantaire swore he could feel her presence, her piercing eyes, as he drifted off to sleep, like a guardian angel. Oddly, it was a comforting thought.

* * *

"Oi, wakey-wakey."

Grantaire managed a groan and a half-hearted attempt at pushing himself into a sitting position before he flopped back again, the amount of effort needed to face the day far too high for the amount he had. Light was piercing his eyelids, not being nearly as gentle as it had been the previous days.

But it always was that way when something had to be done – time was all the more precious.

"You coming or what, mate?"

It was Scorpius.

"Piss off, Malfoy."

"Get up, bitch, you've slept long enough."

"Never too much sleep." Grantaire managed to mumble out, "Sleep's good."

"Nuh-uh," Scorpius leant on the end of the bed, causing it to creak, "Sleep is for the weak."

"Shut up, Malfoy."

"Get up, Labelle." The blonde mimicked back, eyebrows raised, impatiently.

Grantaire finally let out a strangled moan and threw himself out of bed, eyes blurring and clouding within milliseconds, but he was upright, so theoretically Scorpius should shut up.

"Right," Scorpius said, happily, "Now, it's food-time!"

There was a pause.

Grantaire threw himself back into bed, causing Scorpius to yelp in protest.

The past few days had been difficult for Grantaire - the Matron had been checking up on him every half an hour, making sure he wasn't doing anything stupid or dangerous. So many times, Grantaire had let the medication take over and pull him into a dark state of unconsciousness. It was so easy to do, and required no effort on his part whatsoever. All he had to do was take the drugs and succumb.

"Oh come on," Scorpius whined, "Madam Poncey gave me permission to get you the hell out of here, why aren't you taking it?"

"Don't call her that," Grantaire mumbled, and slowly reached for his potions, checking the right amounts with the handwritten instructions, courtesy of Madam Pomfrey, "Could you just give me one damn minute?"

Taking Scorpius' hesitation as an affirmative, Grantaire took a hold of his ridiculously neat uniform and started to find the correct bits to put on first.

"Great. I'll see you outside in five."

Sighing, Scorpius spun on his heel, calling behind him, "Fine, but be quick. I told Éponine we'd meet her ten minutes ago."

"Then why didn't you wake me ten minutes ago?" Grantaire mumbled, not intending for Scorpius to actually hear him.

"I was busy." His voice carried across the hall, and Grantaire presumed he was waiting by the doors at that point.

"Doing what?" Grantaire said, trying to hide his surprise. Sometimes, it slipped his mind that Scorpius did indeed have other friends. "Watching me fucking sleep?"

"No!" Scorpius suddenly turned indignant. It seemed, to Grantaire, that he was a little too indignant.

"Jees," He let a snort escape him, "Scorpius, you need a bloody hobby mate."

"I was not watching you sleep!" Scorpius yelled, probably on the verge of running right back across the hall to give Grantaire a good smack, but then something stopped him.

Something that he spoke words to.

"-oh, er, sorry. Hi."

There was muffled laughter and a heavy sigh, the latter Grantaire presumed was from Scorpius. But from the sound of the laughter, Scorpius appeared to be talking to a girl.

"Well, that's an interesting hobby." The girl's sarcastic voice drifted across the hall as Grantaire tried to pull his shoes on as fast as he could - he just had to see who this girl was. "How d'ya get into that then?"

Unfortunately, Scorpius was only halfway through his excuse when Grantaire stuck his head of the curtain, a fake troubled look on his face.

"It used to just be a one-off thing, but then, alas, he discovered the invisibility cloak. Everything went downhill from there, but now the nice people in white coats are trying to solve the issue. Therapy twice a week and mediation three times a day. You'll get used to it."

During the time it had taken for his brain to rattle off some babble about being a creeper, he'd manage to assess the girl and found out her identity.

It was Rose fucking Weasley.

It was an advancement that Grantaire wasn't willing to respond to, so he ducked his head back into the small area and tried to adjust his, now almost useless, bandages so that they didn't bunch up his robes; whilst he wasn't ashamed of his scars, he didn't want extra attention drawn to him when it could have been avoided. However, there was also a small part of him that wanted to see how Scorpius reacted to that without him around and how he was going to dig himself out, if he could.

"That- that was bullshit, right?" The redheaded girl asked, sounded curious but not exactly worried. Grantaire decided he approved.

"Of course it was!" There was a hint of panic in Scorpius' voice that was carefully smoothed over, but still there. As Scorpius regained his regular cool, Grantaire started to tune out, disinterested.

The only thought left in his head was that Éponine has his alcohol, and they were late.

He only just managed to drag Scorpius away from the girl, although it took several minutes and a lot of whining on Grantaire's part. When they finally escaped from the Hospital Wing, Grantaire slowed his pace, grimacing at the Christmas decorations that's had started to appear.

"That bitch has my alcohol." He stated, not really asking Scorpius, but more looking for confirmation. He got it, "God damn it. Couldn't keep her bloody hands off it for two seconds-"

"Mate, you've been in there for almost three weeks."

That made Grantaire stop in his tracks.

"W-what?"

"Well, how long did you think it had been?"

"Like-" Grantaire waved his arm around listlessly, "A week, tops!"

Scorpius just sighed, and pulled his down the corridor by the sleeve of his robe, not thinking about the pain it would cause Grantaire.

However, Grantaire just bit his tongue and said nothing. Whilst he was a complete noob at actual relationships, he knew Scorpius was really into that Weasley girl, and he would be preoccupied and clumsy until the day he got her, or the day he forgot about her. It was just going to be something he had to get used to.

The last thing he remembered was swigging the vodka Éponine had brought him and feeling it warm his numb limbs with icy fire. It made him smile at its familiarity before he blacked out.


	9. Chapter 9

"Jehan, what the hell are those?" Marius asked incredulously, his eyes wide at the eye watering shade of yellow of the bunch of flowers he was holding.

"They're for Grantaire!" Jehan said in a sing-song voice.

"Oh, are you in love Jehan?" Courfeyrac inquired his tone over dramatic, as his eyes followed the other from his position on the sofa.

It was a Saturday morning about four weeks after the quidditch match, it was that time after breakfast, when no one can really be bothered to do anything. Marius and Cosette had curled up together on a large armchair, while Courf had an entire sofa to himself, stretched out across the cushions, but surprisingly reading, something that he hardly ever did. In fact Courfeyrac read so little, that most of his friends thought it was a miracle that he was able to. There were quite a few people in the common room, the atmosphere was quiet and lazy; it was almost the end of the term, snow had covered the ground in a thick blanket of white, and in every fireplace the house elves of Hogwarts had created a large fire, bathing the room with warmth.

Jehan blushed deep red, and it had nothing to do with the heat radiating from the flames; the question 'are you in love' was most definitely not meant to be asked by Courfeyrac.

"No!" The blond spoke, sounding like a two year old having a tantrum, making his friends smile slightly.

At his friends faces, Jehan continued "I just wanted to visit him, he's been in the hospital wing for ages, but Madame Pomfrey wouldn't let me visit him until now,"

"I'd wondered why he hadn't been coming to the meeting," Marius mused to himself, his arms still wrapped around Cosettes small frame.

"Send him our love," The girl chimed, looking away from Marius. Courfeyrac sniggered at her words, his sick mind twisting them into something more humorous, but Jehan merely ignored him, his face falling slightly.

"Aren't you going to come with me?"

Cosette blushed, but that was nothing compared Marius' reddened face as he stuttered "Em, well- Cosette and I, er, wanted to have some time alone..."

Jehan smiled slightly, also blushing- he was a hopeless romantic at heart, and any reference to the love between his two friends made him go fuzzy inside, Courfeyrac just burst out laughing. Flicking his golden braid behind his back, Jehan turned to Courfeyrac, and his laughter soon faded from his face as he realised he would have to go instead.

The dark haired teen rolled of the sofa faster than Jehan would have thought possible for Courfyrac, before he dramatically grovelled before the pair of lovers sitting on the armchair "Please, take me with you!"

"What?" Marius gasped eyes wide.

"We can have a threesome! You know you want to,"

"Courf, just piss off," Marius sighed, exasperated.

Throughout the conversation Jehan had watched, both his expression and flowers drooping "Come on Courf, one visit wouldn't hurt, would it?"

"I don't want to hang out in Joly's homeland with a guy who has more vodka in his piss than he does piss."

The poet frowned down at Courfeyrac, who was now sprawled across the common room floor, Jehan's face was an unbreakable mask of stubbornness, which Courfeyrac had seen enough times to know that this was one hospital visit he wasn't getting out of.

Groaning like a dying hippogriff, Courfeyrac got to his feet with a scowl to match Jehans "Fine! But you owe me, and I'm not above taking sexual favours,"

"Just get out of here, you're like an old married couple," Marius said trying to sound firm but failing due to the immense embarrassment from the revelation that _'yes, he and Cosette were going to have sex'_ which he had still not recovered from.

If he had looked, Marius would have seen Jehan blush at the comment, but he didn't, because why would he?

Courfeyrac on the other hand, did see. But only for a second; he had been too busy blushing himself.

* * *

"The hospital wing's this way," Courfeyrac pointed out, recovered from his annoyance.

"I know, but I thought we could get some of the others to join us,"

Courfeyrac stopped midway down the corridor, which was deserted aside from the two Hufflepuff boys, his eyebrows raised in disbelief.

"If you think you'll get Joly to stroll into a hospital wing full of sick people then you've got another thing coming!"

Jehan come to a halt with a sigh "Why do you always have to be sarcastic?" The blond looked so tired as he spoke that you'd have thought that he hadn't slept at all the previous night "You know, it is the lowest form of wit,"

"But the highest form of humour," Courfeyrac countered, approaching Jehan, slinging his arm around the defeated blond, taking pity on his hopeless expression "I don't really mind, Jehan," the brunette spoke softly, trying to cheer his friend up, who had shivered slightly at the others touch "It's just that we're not even friends with him,"

"Oh, but we are friends with him! You even invited him to come to the three broomsticks with us,"

"Yeah; you made me!" Courfeyrac shook his head, as the two continued towards Ravenclaw tower, but he knew that Jehan was right "But I guess he's alright, and I suppose," He spoke playfully now, drawing out his syllables, as he grinned at the now smiling poet "Visiting him seems like the nicest thing to do,"

After climbing the narrow spiral staircase, the pair finally reached the thick wooden with the bronze knocker.

"Round like an apple,and deep like a cup, yet all the kings horses can't pull it up," the metal bird squawked, it's eyes glinting dimly as it surveyed the two students before it.

"A well," Jehan answered confidently "Joly told me," he said in reply to Courfeyracs incredulous face. "And besides," the poet continued, mimicking Courfeyracs playful voice "it's not like it was a hard riddle,"

"Show off," The dark haired Hufflepuff muttered as he followed Jehan through the door, making his companion giggle.

* * *

"No!"

"But why?"

"Jehan, I have more important things to do, than sit around an acquaintances hospital bed," Enjolras huffed from his position at one of the tables in the Ravenclaw common room, his books and papers spread out as he tried to finish a potions essay (even though it wasn't due until after the Christmas holidays). Enjolras spent most of his time in the Ravenclaw common room; he immensely disliked spending time in Gryffindor tower, as it was usually the setting of one of James Potters stupid pranks, or rowdy discussions. So, seeing as though his best friend was a Ravenclaw, and Enjolras was usually clever enough to guess the password, he had sort of taken up residence in the other houses common room.

"Enjolras, I think that it might be a good thing to do, surely taking a break for an hour would actually do you good,"

"An hour!?" The Gryffindor squawked, looking at Comobeferre as though he'd just commit blasphemy, "I have work to do!"

"Enjolras the essay was only set yesterday, and-" Combeferre raised his voice, effectively cutting Enjolras off as he opened his mouth to argue "Grantaire is a friend, so surely you can spare him the time,"

Enjolras retorted bitterly "First of all I wouldn't really call him a friend-"

Jehan had to stamp on Courfeyracs foot to stop him smugly reminding them that that was what he had said.

"And secondly-"

"The hospital wing is really dangerous! Who knows what kind of illnesses you could pick up in there! Not to mention-"

"Joly! You don't have to go," Combeferre said as patiently as possible.

"Exactly," Enjolras replied "you can go to the hospital wing and I'll stay here and keep Joly company,"

Combeferre frowned at him, the kind of look which a parent gives to a misbehaving child. If anyone else had tried this on the leader they would have failed miserably. But this was Combeferre; the guide, the one who'd known Enjolras the longest, and was therefore probably the only person in the world who could command Enjolras with such a look.

With a resigned look the Gryffindor got to his feet "Okay, but only for half an hour,"

"I'm sure Grantaire will appreciate it," Combeferre said kindly, also glad that his friend was finally taking a break from his work.

Stretching slightly, Enjolras followed "I don't think he will, I've only spoken to him at the quidditch match; I doubt he remembers me,"

* * *

"I'm sorry,"

"Right,"

"No, really, I'm sorry,"

"You couldn't keep this son of a bitch alive for two minutes without me!" Eponine was sat on the end of the hospital bed, glaring so hard at Scorpius that it was a miracle the flesh hadn't melted off her face. Grantaire sunk lower in the hospital bed. Tuning out from Éponine and Scoupious' argument.

This time he really had overdone it. Once back in the dormitory Grantaire had proceed to find the alcohol that Éponine had hidden and drink it all, which shouldn't have affected him anymore than usual as he downed his entire alcohol store whenever he was feeling a little low, and then just bought more the next day. But the only trouble was that along with his booze was Éponines supply.

He really should have realised that drinking twice as much would get him twice as drunk as usual, which for Grantaire was a serious danger zone. But he hadn't thought, he never did.

Honestly though, what was the point? Even if he did die, no one would care. In the entire world his two friends would be the only people who'd even notice. In fact it was more than likely that most people would be pleased, so why didn't he just do them all a favour?

A dark mist began to descend upon Grantaire again. She was watching him again, clawing at him, trying to drag him deeper and deeper.

The Slytherin pressed his fingers against his bandaged arm, imagining the blood oozing from his torn skin.

And slowly he began to feel a familiar itch.

"Fucking ow!"

Grantaire was pulled away from her by Scoupius' cry of pain, he was glaring at the short brunette, who'd just punched him in the arm. The dark haired boy knew from experience that a punch from Éponine bloody hurt, but Scorpius had probably deserved it anyway. Grantaire quickly dropped his hands onto the bed before Éponine turned around, already feeling guilty about his indulgent thoughts.

"'Ponine, don't kill him!" Grantaire mumbled half heartedly, as his two friends faced each other looking ready to murder one another.

"Give me two good reasons," Éponine growled not letting her eyes stray from the blonds.

"Well..." Grantaire tried, he really did "Can't think of any, fuck off,"

Scorpius glared at Éponine for another second, before turning to Grantaire, apparently unfazed by his comment.

"Just get better soon Labelle - I need my drinking buddy back soon, or I'm gonna get a withdrawal," Grantaire just smirked slightly in response, much to Éponines disapproval, before Malfoy turned on his overly shiny heel and left the small cubicle Gantaire had been placed in.

"Do you want me to go too?" The brunette asked, her voice gentler as she sat back on the end of the hospital bed "I should probably warn Weasley that she's about to be molested by you know who," she continued jerking her head in the direction of Scorpius' retreating back.

"Nah, you can stay, as long as you don't hit me like that," the boy joked pulling himself somewhat into a sitting position.

"Well, you bloody deserve it R!" She quickly shot back, her eyes sparkling once more. Grantaire was about to make a joking retort, as usual, when what looked like a walking garden skipped into the room.

"Hi Grantaire, I brought you some flowers!" Jehan was stood before them looking so colourful that it bordered on shiny.

"Er..." Grantaire had meant to say thank you, but he was far too busy gawking at Jehans appearance.

The boy was shorter than both Grantaire and Éponine, his eyes were a sparkling sky blue, matched by his constant smile. But Grantaire knew this; he'd sat next to him for two years, No, the thing that made Grantaires eyes pop, and caused Éponine to mutter "Oh. My. Fucking. God." Was his truly 'unique' taste in clothing.

As it was a weekend everyone was able to wear casual cloths; and so Jehan was wearing floral skinny jeans, that were so bright that they must surely glow in the dark, along with an equally loud patterned jumper which clashed horribly. In his had were a bunch of canary yellow flowers, and to top off his appearance, he'd woven a mixture of dandelions and daisies into the long blond braid over his shoulder.

"Hi," Grantaire managed finally, after an internal struggle to find his voice. At this the Hufflepuff boy smiled even wider making him look in danger of spontainious human combustion, before the he walked around the bedside towards the table where he could arrange his gift. His walk was ridiculous, truly, if it hadn't been such a bizarre situation Grantaire would have killed himself laughing; Jehan seemed to be always almost walking on tip toes, as though he was constantly ready to break into dance, though his hips swung with such rhythm as he walked that it looked almost like a dance as it was. Somehow this drew the mental image of some exotic bird of paradise flouncing though the trees, showing off its bizarre plumage. Grantaire decided that that mental image pretty much summed up Jean Prouvaire.

Three other people entered the screened-off space around Grantaires bed after Jehan (but thankfully all were less colourfully clothed than their friend).

Courfeyrac bounded in first, smiling as ever, then came the Ravenclaw with glasses; Grantaire had only spoken to him at the first quidditch match and hadn't been able to remember his name, that's what happens when you sit next to the living embodiment of Apollo; all irrelevant information fades into the background, and the Ravenclaws name fell into that category (the drinking probably didn't help).

Just as Grantaire decided that his name began with C, said God followed his friends into the room and Grantaire felt whatever air he had in his lungs quickly leave.

Shit.

It was all the Slytherin could not to let his mouth hang open as he stared at Enjolras. Enjolras had come to see him; Grantaire wasn't worthy to black his boots.

The Blond caught Grantaire watching him and smiled ever so slightly.  
If he hadn't been about to vomit from anxiety the Slytherin would have blushed.

Jehan was babbling on, but dark haired boy wasn't listening, he was far too busy mentally kicking himself.

Why the fuck was he getting so happy? Enjolras didn't like him, not like that, he was just being polite. He'd do that for all his friends, not that Grantaire considered himself a friend. No, he was nobody.

And he always would be.

"Éponine!" Courfeyracs over-enthusiastic cry snapped Grantaire out of his dark broodings. The Hufflepuff practically dived towards the girl, who was still so preoccupied staring at Jehan that she didn't have time to react before he had crushed her in a bear hug.

"Piss off Courf!" She snarled, jabbing him very hard in the ribs causing the boy to roll sideways into an empty chair, though he was grinning all the while.

Courfeyrac's three companions all took seats around the room as well, all smiling politely, aside from Courfeyrac who was chuckling to himself at Éponines glare.

Though he was grateful of the company, Grantaire wasn't quite sure why they had come; okay, he had sat beside Jehan for two years, but he'd never exactly been friendly. He still had no clue what specky's name was, and it wasn't as if he and Enjolras were pals. Granted, Courfeyrac had once invited Grantaire to go drinking, but he hadn't accepted; socialising wasn't exactly his forte.

"So are you feeling better, Grantaire?" The Ravenclaw asked, kindly "We've missed having you at the meetings,"

Have you? Have you really? Grantaire couldn't stop the cynic, voice in his head as he answered with a mere "Yeah, I'm fine,"

"So what was wrong? Madam Pomfrey wasn't very specific," Jehan asked, looking for more concerned than he should.

Grantaire opend his mouth to answer.

Combeferre!

The name of the other boy had just come to him, and Grantaire was momentarily pleased with himself for actually remembering something, before he realised that everyone was waiting for an answer. Even Éponine was watching, eyebrows raised to see what he'd say.

"I just drunk too much, fell over, and, you know, just hit my head a little," Grantaire lied smoothly, it was one of the few things he was actually good at.

"Aww, bit of a lightweight are we?" Courfeyrac teased.

"I wouldn't say that," Éponine muttered darkly.

The entire while, Grantaire couldn't focus; he could feel Enjolras watching him like a hawk, those brilliant blue eyes making him fidget beneath the bed sheets. Out of the corner of his eye Grantaire could just about make him out, still as a marble statue, and yet he couldn't seem to focus on anything else but the boy beside him.

"You shouldn't drink so much," the god talks "it isn't good for you're health,"

He cares!

The thought rebounded around Grantaire's foggy mind, he couldn't even muster up anymore of a response than to smile vaguely at Enjolras, the dark hole which constantly hovered around him seemed, for a second to be gone.

But as quickly as it left, the hopelessness returned, redoubling its strength as it crushed what little hope he had,

Grantaire let the smile fade from his faces. He couldn't do this, he had to stop getting his hopes up, it only made things more painful. Nothing ever went his way.

Enjolras must hate him, everyone found Grantaire repulsive. He disgusted himself.

Grantaire so desperately to be numb, not to care about anything. But that was all he wanted: to be cared about. Sure Éponine actually gave a crap if he was still alive and kicking, but no one else did, not even his family.

Every child deserved to be loved unconditionally by it's parents. At one point he'd he'd dared to hope that that was the kind of love his parents had for him, but, as usual, he was wrong.

But Grantaire didn't blame them, everything he did was a failure, and he hated it. Grantaire's life was just one big disappointment. He'd set himself low targets and then fail to meet them, and indulging in this little fantasy that Enjolras actually cared for him was just making things worse. He'd be far better off as soon as he accepted the truth:

Grantaire wasn't good enough for anyone, yet alone a god.


	10. Chapter 10

Cheery shouts could be heard throughout the Great Hall, echoing off the magnificent walls and vast, enchanted ceiling. Embraces were given and tears were exchanged, and finally- finally, people started to leave, preparing to get on the train home from Hogsmeade.

Éponine had come down to say goodbye, but - when it got to the point where it would have been appropriate - neither knew quite what to say.

"Have fun with Blondie," Grantaire eventually muttered, referring to Cosette, the daughter of the Defence against the Dark Arts teacher, who was - in Éponine's opinion - one of the most annoying people on the planet. Of course, this may have had something to do with the fact that she was dating Marius Pontmercy, Éponine's one and only love, but even Grantaire had to admit that the blonde's general cheeriness and constant happy tone was irritating after a while. Sort of like Jehan, but worse.

Éponine snorted, mumbling something about talking to her brother the entire holiday. Then, as if she'd been preparing for it for a while, Éponine licked her lips and started to talk, her eyes fixed on a point a little to the left of Grantaire's ear.

"Grantaire, I just wanted to- er, say that your- well, situation. It's, yeah, it's really shitty and I see that and- just wanted to, um, say that you could, y'know, come and stay. If you wanted to. Just in case. Of your stuff."

Grantaire just stared at her, slightly unsure what he was supposed to take from the rushed garble.

"What?"

Taking a deep breath, Éponine forced herself to look Grantaire in the eye.

"If you want to get away from the shit this Christmas, I- I was just saying you could come stay with us." Then, as if a wave of panic had crested inside of her, she started to rush again, tumbling over the words coming out of her mouth in a jumbled necklace of beaded sentences. "You don't have to! No, no, no - I mean it's not going to be great because we don't have much money and my parents can be complete twats, but if your parents are just being really shitty with you then please don't be afraid to come because sometimes I really worry about you and-"

Her hands were waving around, trying to demonstrate her point, until Grantaire caught each wrist in his own hands, his arms now free of the restraining bandages. Even then, she kept going, unaware of the fact that Grantaire was trying to calm her down and stop her talking.

"-and sometimes I think that your parents wouldn't care if you stopped taking your potion or you really did try and top yourself properly and I just want you to know that I care and I would really-"

"Éponine." Grantaire managed to get out, slightly strangled, his emotions almost getting the better of him. She recognised this and instantly shut her mouth, startled at the reaction to her proposal.

"Sorry," She muttered, tugging her wrists gently from their constraints, rubbing them a little, letting her own cold hands soothe the strange feeling the capture had given them. "Just wanted you to know that."

"Thank you." Grantaire managed to get out, and encircled her with his arms, resting his chin on her head. By taking deep breaths, he finally managed to calm himself down enough to bid goodbye to the brunette, wishing her a Merry Christmas, and apologising for the fact that he wouldn't be able to write.

At this point, he usually sought out Scorpius so they could get a carriage together, but he seemed to have disappeared (along with certain redheaded Weasley), so Grantaire made the trip to Hogsmeade alone, selfishly taking up an entire carriage, and not caring at all.

By the time he got to the train station, he had a heavy weight in his stomach that he didn't seem to be able to shake, and knew he wouldn't for another few weeks; he was going home.

* * *

Enjolras had always thought that patrolling was something to be admired, and yet he found the act of it rather dull after almost three months of it: not to mention it being constant, repetitive and draining. Of course, he would never admit this to anyone for fear of being suspended from the job, but he still mulled over the thought as he counted down the last few minutes of his shift.

However, just as he reached the end of the next train carriage, he noticed a brunette male eyeing him from out the corner of his eye. When he turned to look, he recognised him as the boy who'd sat next to him at the first Quidditch match, and one of the people who went to his meetings, a regular one at that. A few weeks ago, he'd made himself known by suggesting writing to the Minister of Health, enquiring about the states of the hospitals and politely suggesting that he change the arrangement so that blood status no longer mattered in the order of treatment. This had been a new idea for most of them, so had caused surprise and excitement at the notion.

His name was... Grantaire LaBelle?

Politely nodding towards him, Enjolras said a quiet "LaBelle," and was prepared to move on, preferably towards the end of the train with his friends, but the brunette had other ideas.

"Grantaire," He corrected, giving Enjolras a nervous smile, "Call me Grantaire."

"I- alright." The blond thought this a little odd, but he didn't have a chance to say so, since a tall, thin male with a pointed face and platinum hair interrupted, tugging on Grantaire's arm, only realising a split second later that Enjolras had paused to exchange words with his friend.

"Oh, sorry," The teenager grinned easily, "Didn't see you there."

After a moment of awkward silence, Scorpius stuck his hand out for Enjolras to shake.

"Er, Scorpius Malfoy."

"Enjolras Descoteaux."

The two shook hands as a flicker of recognition drifted over Scorpius' face.

"Ah, you run the club Grantaire goes to?"

The brunette looked visibly distressed, but Enjolras couldn't for the life of him figure out why. Through gritted teeth, the dirty blonde managed to get out his usual response to whenever someone called the group a "club".

"It's actually an organisation."

"Oh," Scorpius looked a little confused, but his polite manners had been beaten into him well, and so he merely nodded and gave Enjolras a small smile. "Well, looks like you're on patrol, so we'll leave you to it."

The platinum blond slid into the compartment, dragging the drinker with him, but not before the brunette shot Enjolras an apologetic smile that seemed to be excusing Scorpius' awkward manners, but the blond barely noticed as he suddenly took note of the shockingly blue eyes that were connected with his.

In all the time that he'd known Grantaire, Enjolras had never noticed his eyes. His own had always been looking at some other paperwork or board, never meeting anyone's eye but Combeferre's - looking for the approval on the idea proposed, which was all the eye contact he needed.

But these were a shocking blue - the deep blue of chipped glass, throwing glints and shadows through the iris, the colour mesmerising-

Enjolras blinked, and Grantaire was gone from the hallway, a few screaming Second Years having materialised some way down the corridor in his place. Suddenly, Enjolras felt an ache, a longing to look at those eyes again, much as he tried to shake it off.

Whilst he managed to get the worst of the ache out of his chest, the lingering still stuck, try as he might to get rid of it.

This feeling remained with him for longer than he'd like to admit.

* * *

"Ah, Marius!"

Taking a deep breath, Marius turned to look his short grandfather in the eye, preparing himself for an extremely boring Christmas holiday.

"Grandfather," He greeted his elderly relative mildly, trying to hide the distaste in his voice, "How have you been?"

"Very well, thank you Marius. And yourself?"

"Well enough." Marius swallowed a snarky comment and followed his Grandfather out of the platform and through the wall of Platform 9 3/4. When they reached the other side, his Grandfather extended a bent arm, offering it to Marius so that they could apparate together.

A horrible, sick twist in his stomach - crushing his windpipe and cracking his bones - caused his head to spin, and then- they were there; outside the Pontmercy Manor.

"Do come in," The elderly gentleman offered, as if Marius was a stranger in this house. "May I offer you a beverage?"

Marius was already feeling on edge and constricted: he'd only been inside the house for seven seconds, if that.

"Thank you, but no." Marius tried to keep breathing. He hated this house so much, "I think I'll go and unpack now, Grandfather, if that suits you?"

The other nodded, and then reminded his grandson that dinner would be served at half past eight. This left the teenager to drag his trunk up the stairs, waving off the help of the House Elf, despite his struggles; he felt it was so unnecessary to put on airs and graces, especially around his own family.

Even as he reached his room, he noted the lack of personal items; it was like staying in a hotel room, or a guest room at someone else's house: no paintings on the walls, no clothes scattered around, no photographs anywhere: Marius knew that this wasn't where he belonged.

His true home was Hogwarts.

Ever since he'd stepped through the grand doors on his first day, he knew that his Grandfather's house would never be home again: Hogwarts was where he felt safe and loved. Here; he felt neither.

Before he unpacked, Marius decided to send a letter to Cosette, knowing that she'd be bored, stuck at the castle all by herself.

The letter started with "Dearest Cosette" and rambled on for almost two feet of parchment before Marius decided to break it off; as bored as she would be, he didn't want to bore her any more than necessary. For a few moments, before he called his owl over to send the letter all the way up to Scotland, he sat and thought about his girlfriend: the way she laughed when Marius messed something up - oh so delicate, so as not to offend him, but still causing her eyes to crinkle at the edges; the way she played with her hair when she was bored, plaiting tiny strands until her whole head was full of them; the way she stared deep into his eyes and caressed his face before she kissed him-

His whole body ached with sorrow, missing her presence already.

A sharp crack snapped Marius out of his thoughts, and he hastily tied the letter onto his owl's outstretched leg whilst simultaneously reassuring the house elf that had been sent to fetch him that he would be coming downstairs momentarily.

With that news, the house elf bobbed away, leaving Marius to wallow in his self pity alone, tied to the promise of dinner.

It was going to be a long two weeks.

* * *

"Joly - don't forget to write!" Jehan cheerfully reminded him as he threw his arms around his friend's shoulders. Over the top of the hug, Joly spotted Combeferre, who merely gave Joly a nod and a smile, knowing that the lack of physical contact in their farewell would be greatly appreciated. Whilst Joly appreciated Jehan's sentiment, the thought of the number of germs that passed between them during that hug made him feel nauseous, although he still promised Jehan that he would write and gave him - what he hoped - was a reassuring smile.

Almost as soon as he was released from the clutches of the germs hive, (that jumper had to have to have been full of germs and dust and diseases and- Joly had to stop and reminded himself that Jehan was his friend, no matter his clothing choices) he struggled over the barrier and checked the digital train timetables at the head of the platform.

"Oi, freak!"

The familiarity of the voice hit Joly deep in the gut, striking a chord that didn't settle well with him at all.

Turning slowly, Joly took in the arrogant swagger and cocky smile of James Potter the Second. Even after school was over, in the holidays, there was no escape. Blood pounded in Joly's ears and all oxygen cut off from his lungs, panic setting into the young boy's heart.

Enjolras wasn't here to save him now.

"Where are all your little friends?" The taller of the two sneered, finally reaching Joly, an unreadable expression on his face, "Ditched you for someone less uptight?"

Over his shoulder, Joly could see James' best friend, Fred Weasley, sniggering at his misfortune. But then James was suddenly closer than he had been before, the smaller of the two able to catch the glint in his eye and count the two day stubble, despite his quivering state.

It was the closest they'd ever been in public, and it was unnerving for them both.

Just as James raised a hand, probably to give Joly a shimmering black eye, he paused - hesitated for barely a second - and flicked his eye over Joly's shoulder, to where the hypochondriac presumed was the Potter family, waiting for James to come off the platform and not realising that he already had.

An unspoken sentence passed between the two, before the elder let a flash of surprise appear in his eyes.

The entire exchange was only a few seconds long, but the brunette couldn't help feeling that it was significant, somehow. The rest of the train station suddenly felt silent as James turned to leave, and all Joly could think about was the pained expression on the other's face as he went, dragging Fred Weasley (the Second, as he so often reminded people) along with him. A small frown was sent Joly's way, but the brunette barely registered it as he himself turned to leave.

"Hey!"

By now, Joly had definitely had enough of people, so kept his head firmly down and rummaged around his shoulder bag for his cleansing wipes as he walked towards platform eleven, where his train would be leaving in just a few minutes.

"Hey, Joly!"

Emerald green eyes suddenly bobbed into view as Joly turned, blinking wide as he took in Albus Potter calling his name. It was a surreal moment.

"Er," He reached the other after a skidded halt, pink spots dancing on his cheeks, "I, er, just wanted to apologise for my brother."

"Wh-what?"

"I mean," Albus took a deep breath, "He's an arse, and I saw him about to punch you back there and I just wanted to apologise on his behalf because-"

"It's fine, honestly," The shy boy muttered back, subtly trying to spray a new Febreeze can (handy pocket-sized, for every on-the-go cleaning mission) into the foul air between them without being caught, "Happens more often than you'd think."

Apparently, this was the wrong thing to say, as the Potter's eyes burned with the brightness of an Avada curse at the mention of a multiple offence.

"It does, huh?" The dark hair on his head was so similar to his father's that Joly wasn't sure that he was talking to the son of Harry Potter, and not the man himself, "Well, I really am truly sorry about that. Erm, I'll say something to him about it - it has to stop at some point, so..."

The conversation fizzled out, and Joly awkwardly pointed to the train he was supposed to be on that was now gaining passengers at an alarming rate.

"I, er, better go."

They exchanged a nod, both feeling a little foolish, and went their separate ways.

Slightly shaken, Joly walked along to where the Newcastle train would leave in 3.2 minutes from the platform a few metres over, trying to attract the least attention possible whilst carrying his heavy trunk, and probably not succeeding.

Quickly pushing the whole affair to the back of his mind, and making a note to ask Combeferre about it later, Joly focussed on the thing that would occupy him and his thoughts for the next few hours: the train.

It wasn't that Joly didn't like trains per-ce, it was more the cleanliness of them. Unlike the Hogwarts train, the regulars were only cleaned maybe every eight hours or so, and it was like he could feel the diseases being sucked into his lungs, tucked away in corrupted air and fuzzy seats, waiting to spring into action.

The mini hand-sanitiser from the outer section of his bag quickly made an appearance, cleansing as many of the inanimate objects that he could reach that wouldn't be ruined by it. Usually, this was just part of the routine, but it was also a way of calming his nerves; if anything could wipe the memory of James Potter from Joly's memory, it would be cleaning.

His sharp eyes assessed the train as he dragged his trunk into the luggage area, careful as to not let it touch any other suitcases. What with the hold up, Joly hadn't managed to get to the train quick enough to get a window seat next to a table, and severely regretted it.

He assessed the few remaining seats and felt a darkness settle in his heart.

The mini cleansing kit in his shoulder bag was at the ready - four and a half hours lay ahead of him, and he planned on using the time wisely.

* * *

The old car bounced over the uneven road making Jehan spring backwards in his seat. After the endless train journey, and long car ride he was longing to get out and stretch his legs. But on the other hand he was enjoying seeing his mother again, he felt as though it had been years since he'd seen her and the rest of his family. And it would probably do him some good for him to get some space from certain friends of his for a while.

Finally the car turned into the small village where the family lived, which was situated in the middle of the Yorkshire dales, basically in the middle of nowhere, but Jehan loved that about his house; the beautiful countryside surrounding it. Their house was the last on the road, right on the edge of the Moor.

Jehan opened the door, it was raining, as usual. But it was England, so what did he expect?

"Jehan! Jehan!" Alison, Jehan's half-sister came sprinting out of the little house as fast as her little legs would allow, before actually jumping into his arms. Jehan had always been amazed that a four year old could move so swiftly.

He was snapped out of his thoughts by a whack on the head by the little girl "You've been gone too long." She whined with an angry, yet adorable, scowl.

"I'm sorry, but I have to go to school." Jehan replied half angry, half amused as he placed the little blonde back onto the ground, already feeling a small bruise forming onto of his head.

"She's just missed you," Jehan's father chuckled as he gave him a hug. Well, technically he was Jehan's step father, but the man had always treated Jehan like his own son, and as far as Jehan was concerned, he was his father, so when his mother had remarried when Jehan was five, he had changed his last name to Prouvaire so that they were a proper family.

After being released from the hug, Jehan bounced to the car, and with a slight groan hoisted his trunk and owl cage out of the car.

"Need help?" His mother asked, planting a kiss on his cheek.

"Nope I got it," Jehan muttered, focusing on not breaking his toe.

After some careful manoeuvring, and a lot of inward swearing, Jehan had managed to drag his things up the unhelpfully narrow stair case and into his box-sized room.

With a final tug, the poet collapsed panting onto the seat at his desk.

"Dinner's in half an hour!" His mother shouted up the stairs.

"Okay," he hollered back.

For a second he hesitated, was it too keen to write to his friends the moment he'd got home? Probably, but that had never stopped him before, and it didn't stop him now.

Pulling several pieces of blank parchment the poet started to write and in no time at all six letters lay neatly sealed on his desk, one for each of his friends. Though he wrote the letters at top speed, it had taken Jehan almost five minutes to muster up the courage to write 'love from Jehan XXX' on Courfeyrac's letter, rather than the 'from Jehan X' which was on the bottom of everyone else's letters.

Blushing to himself Jehan scooped up the letters and approached the dosing barn owl in the corner of his room, and gently tapped the bird awake, needless to say it didn't look happy when it opened it's eyes. The mood grew once it clocked the six letters in is owners hand.

Cosette had stayed in Hogwarts, which Jehan was sure was somewhere in Scotland. Jehan knew that Joly lived in the very north of England (possibly Newcastle, but he wasn't sure) and Courfeyrac lived in the Midlands. To top things off Marius and Enjolras lived in the South, and Combeferre's house was somewhere near Dartmoor.

Jehan's owl knew this as well.

Fying through a rainy winters night carrying six letter was bad, what made it worse was that each letter was aimed at a completely different part of the country. Jehan hadn't known it was possible for an owl to be cynical, but if it was, then his owl certainly was.

With what was definitely a roll of the eyes the bird grasped, with difficultly, the six letters and took off gracefully through the open window.

Smiling to himself Jehan wondered back over to his desk, already excited about the replies.

All the letters he'd received from his friends were scattered around his room, hidden among countless pages of poetry and school notes, all except those from one person.

Hidden under his desk in an empty shoebox was every letter that Courfeyrac had ever sent him.

In fact not all of them were letters, some were just the silly notes that Courf would pass to him in class when he was bored, one was Courfeyrac's failed attempt at writing a poem for Jehan's 15th birthday present, there was even a scrunched up piece of paper he'd thrown at Jehan to get his attention at one of Enjolras' meetings.

Jehan was well aware that this collection went beyond sad. But he'd didn't care, he simply couldn't get rid of them.

"Jehan, dinner's ready," His mother shouted from the floor below. Roused from his daydream the poet practically jumped out of his chair and out of the door.

* * *

Courfeyrac dragged his truck up the stairs, cursing user his breath the entire time. His birthday was in less than a month, it was so unfair! Why couldn't he just use a damn levitation charm? He'd already had to drag his stuff from platform nine and three quarters to another train which stopped off in his town and then from that train station to his apartment block, which though situated almost in the middle of town, was in a pretty rough area, all because his Dad was too fucking lazy to come and pick him up.

And then the lift had broken.

Okay, so he didn't live on the top floor, but four flights of stairs was still a lot to carry all your stuff up.

"Son of a-" Courfeyrac cut off his shout as he dropped his trunk on his foot again.

Gritting his teeth the dark haired boy stomped down the hallway, all the way to the door at the end, before flinging it open.

"Dad, I'm home!" He yelled into the tiny apartment, before dumping his stuff in the hallway. The boy was about to collapse on the tiny sofa when a shout echoed from the next room.

"SHIT, COURFEYRAC, THERE'S A BLOODY OWL IN THE KITCHEN!"

Groaning the boy pulled himself to his feet.

"Dad there's been owls coming here since forever,"

"Well get it the hell out of the kitchen! I don't want it fucking up the food!"

Sighing the brunette walked the short distance to the kitchen, took a firm grasp of the small owl dithering about in the small space, and all but threw it into the living room.

"There, happy now?"

"You've no idea," His Dad replied smirking, the age gap between the two was striking, as Courfeyrac's father was only just 32. Sometimes Courfeyrac actually forgot that he was his father, as the two treated each other almost like friends, meaning that Courfeyrac was very at ease in the muggle world because of his dad. In addition to this the two looked identical, some people even said it was a little eerie how similar they were, especially as they had the same personality. The only difference between the two was that Courfeyrac was smart enough not to get anyone pregnant when he was sixteen.

An indignant squawk brought Courfeyrac's attention back to the bird in the living room. Turning, he recognised the minute barn owl as Jehan's and was unable to stifle a hysteric laugh.

Being any owl looked like a boring existence, being Jehan's owl made being a tapeworm look attractive, as the poet would manage to write about six yard long letters each day, all of which were headed for different parts of the country. But either way, the sight of the glaring barn owl clutching about five oversized letters in its beck was nothing less than hilarious.

Still chuckling to himself, the dark haired boy opened the letter addressed to him as the owl waddled up and down the coffee table in an agitated manor.

Courfeyrac quickly scanned the letter, before snatching up a blank piece of parchment and scrawling a reply, before folding it in-half and offering it to the owl.

If the creature had eyebrows, then they would be raised.

With a squawk the enraged owl snatched up the letter and took off through the open window, before it was given anything else to carry.

Sniggering to himself, Courfeyrac rooted in the drawers to find the mobile phone he used when living in the muggle world, he quickly switched it, and scrolled though his contacts before hitting the dial button.

"Hello," came a female voice from the other end of the line.

"Hello, is that Mrs Provaire?"

"Yes, who is this?"

"Oh sorry, I haven't introduced myself," The brunette said as smoothly as possible "I'm Courfeyrac, one of Jehan's friends. Is there any chance that I could talk to him?"

"Em, of course," the woman said, sounding a little confused "just hold on for a second,"

Couferyac listened to the sound of someone ascending the stairs and then a muffled conversation.

"Coufeyrac?"

"Why hello my fine friend," the boy said as over the top as he could.

"Erm, why are you calling my house?" The other asked sounding pleased, if a little confused.

"Well it's the only number I have for you, if you give me your mobile number, then you will be adorned with my fabulous texts as well!"

"I don't have a phone,"

Courfeyrac choked slightly "Why not?"

"Why would I? All my friends are wizards. I wrote to you instead, didn't you get my letter?"

"Of course I did, that's why I'm ringing,"

"You mean you're not writing back?" Jehan enquired sounding upset.

"Of course I am, I know what you're like," Courfeyrac replied rolling his eyes "Anyway, I just rung to say hi,"

"Hi"

"Well, thanks for your scintillating conversation,"

Courfeyrac just heard the begining of a sarcastic reply, when a shout came from the kitchen.

"Courf, the food's ready."

"Be there in a minute," he shouted back.

"You mean you don't want the meal that you're father has lovingly prepared for you?" His dad replied in mock hurt.

"You stuck it in the microwave for five minutes and then put it on a plate," The younger replied rolling his eyes "Look Jehan, I'm gonna have to go, I'll call you later, okay?"

"Sure," Jehan replied in his overly optimistic voice "I'll be waiting," he said as the line went dead.

* * *

Three days to Christmas.

Éponine hates Christmas; perhaps it had something to do with all the Christmases that she'd spent in the muggle world, having to do errands for her father in the freezing cold, wearing clothes that were barely enough in summer, yet alone mid winter. But, for whatever reason, she hated it, with a passion.

And so the girl found herself alone in the Slytherin common room, feeling even more wretched than usual. And so she started to think about him, she just couldn't help it. It was like he was always there in the back of his mind and all it took for her to relapse into thinking about him was a lapse in the conversation. Which wasn't good because at that moment the common room was that not-quite-silent quiet, and she just couldn't help herself.

It's been ages. Seriously, _ages_ since he chose Cosette over her, but Éponine still couldn't quite comprehend it, like the truth has only just hit her.

It's like in those stupid muggle cartoons she used to watch when she had no idea that any of this world even existed, and one of the characters would always run off the edge of a cliff and there's a moment of 'Have I really just run off a cliff?' And then you fall. Right now she was fucking falling. And it was horrible.

She just wanted to run away, not with Marius, God no, not anymore. But she did want to run away; she didn't want to go back to school, or life for that matter. No, she wanted to run away because she'd lost everything. In a really pathetic way she wished Grantaire was here, him and his bloody cynicism would jokingly tell her that if she really had lost everything then she's lost bad things as well. But then he wouldn't really believe it, so she wouldn't believe it, the two of then just didn't believe in anything.

But Éponine still missed her best friend, and the worst part was she wasn't able to write to him over the holidays; if Grantaire's parents discovered that their only son was best friends with a 'mudblood' then the punishment would go beyond pain. But she did get updates about how he was doing from Scorpius who was deemed as a worthy companion by Mr and Mrs LaBelle, well he was a Malfoy so it was no big surprise.

"Oi,"

Éponine raises her head, roused from her thoughts. Her younger brother was stood near the entrance to the Slyhterin common room looking immensely out of place.

"How the fuck did you get in here?" The girl asked moodily. It wasn't because she disliked her brother, it was more the fact that there was another human being within a ten metre radius and she might have to converse with it.

Gavroche just shrugged, which was odd; out of the pair of them he'd always been the more sociable, but he must have sensed his sisters mood.

Without a word the young boy crossed the deserted Slytherin common room and all but flung himself on top of his sister.

Éponine gave a feeble poke, she was far too tired for one of her aggressive retorts, so she just hugged him closer. The two of them just snuggled together on the sofa, the way they used to do when they were younger and things at home got really bad.  
Éponine let out a sigh.

"It's just not fair,"

"I know," the reply sounded as hopeless as the statement, so Éponine held her little sibling closer and rested her chin on his shoulder, her dark eyes fluttering closed.

* * *

It was early evening, Combeferre still felt positively stuffed from the huge Christmas dinner his mother had made for the occasion. It wasn't that she was a bad cook, on the contrary; she was possibly the best at cooking he knew, even compared to the house elves of Hogwarts. But she did have a habit of making too much food, and as there was only Combeferre and his parents, it meant that eating Christmas dinner was a truly difficult task. But on the upside it meant that Courfeyrac preferred to visit Combeferre's house rather than Enjolras', if that was considered to be an upside.

The teen was settled by the roaring fire reading while his parents cleared away the reminders of the meal, obviously he'd offered to help them, but they'd insisted that he hadn't needed to. So there he was enjoying his Christmas gifts; almost all of them were books - not that he minded! He loved books.

A book on rare and extinct magical creatures and plants from Jehan, a guide to magical injuries special 8th edition from Joly, 'A magical injustice: the truth about the ministry' from Enjolras, and finally 'one hundred fail-free ways to charm witches' with _'Dude you really need this!' _Scrawled in Courfeyrac's messy handwriting inside the front cover. All of which he was sure he'd use at some point... Well, most of them anyway.

He'd just reached chapter 4 of Enjolras' book, when the warm fire where the boy had been warming himself seconds before flared, it's sparks turning emerald and the blond boy stepped out of the fireplace. As this took place Combeferre hardly looked up- it had become almost a routine occurrence that Enjolras would get so bored and annoyed with his family that he'd end up coming to sleep at Combeferre's house. He was practically part of the family, as was Coufeyrac, after all they'd known each other since they were five.

"Have a good time?" Combeferre enquired, already knowing the reply.

"I suppose," the other boy sniffed,spending time with his family always put Enjolras in a foul mood. He'd just sat down heavily into the armchair next to Combeferre's when suddenly his face broke into a radiant smile "Thank you for the present, I'm sure that I'll find it very useful."

"Same to you," Combeferre replied pointing towards the book he'd been reading before, causing his friend to smile almost smugly 'I'm Combeferre's best friend and I got him a proper birthday present!' Causing Combeferre to grin even more at the expression plastered across Enjolras' face.

"Did you get anything else?" The blond asked still looking a little too happy with himself.

"Just the usual," Combeferre replied, waving his hand vaguely towards the monstrous pile of books "and you?"

"Similar story really. Although," Enjolras said, a small crease forming on his brow "I did get this," reaching his hand into the bag he'd brought with him, he withdrew a medium sized box, and delicately handed it to his best friend.

Curious, Combeferre to it. Whatever was inside was very light, he noted as he momentarily fiddled with the catch.

"There was no note to it; I've no idea who it's from," Enjolras confessed as the other boy drew back the lid.

Inside the plain box, sat on a plush dark velvet, was a quill. The feather was sleek and jet black. A faint gleam to it's soft texture. The metal part of the quill, Combeferre was sure, was silver. But inspire of the box's grand appearance, the metal of the quill was plain, no patterns or embellishments on it.

Practical but beautiful; just like Enjolras.

"I mean, it seems ridiculous to spend so much money on such an everyday item. I would have thought that..." And Enjolras was off on his rant about how to help the less fortunate magical creatures, and that people should be focusing on helping others. Combeferre merely nodded along, smiling slightly to himself, wondering wether or not he should tell his best friend the person who'd sent him the gift, or if he should just let Enjolras figure it out by himself. Which Combeferre was sure he would do... Sooner or later, at least.


End file.
